


The Dead Still Speak

by Willowe (orphan_account)



Series: Other Potential Futures [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Supernatural Season 7, Angelic Bonding, Boys and angels being idiots, Crossover, Fix-It, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost three months since Castiel disappeared into that lake, and Dean can't shake the feeling that he's not actually dead. Sam just wants to shake the strange dreams he's been having of Gabriel, before his feelings for the angel become even more complicated. Meanwhile, there are still Leviathans to defeat and the key to killing them lies with an unconscious Archangel that Aziraphale and Crowley found on their doorstep. But saving the world comes with a price, and three relationships are going to be changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through Supernatural 7x04 (Defending Your Life), but it goes AU after that. This is really just a massive fix-it fic.
> 
> Also, my apologies if my interpretation of the Crowleys upsets anyone but it was necessary to write them as one character for various plot-related reasons. I hope you'll accept my hybrid Crowley and enjoy the story nonetheless.

It had been two years since anyone had stepped foot in the motel and yet, apart from some more cobwebs and dust, it remained disturbingly unchanged. Even the body, lying sprawled in the middle of the room, didn’t show any signs of decay- though as he looked down at it Castiel knew that was because it had never truly been alive. It had been built by the pagan gods millennia ago to act as a Vessel for his brother, the archangel Gabriel, who had been killed by Lucifer the same night this motel was abandoned for good.

It was the first time Castiel had visited the scene of his brother’s death and part of him expected to feel some sort of emotional response to that. Instead he just felt tired, weary to the very core of his Grace. He had heard Sam’s prayer to him and knew that he didn’t have long before he would have to return to the Winchesters and admit that he needed their help, but first there was something else he needed to do.

Standing over the body of his brother, Castiel called upon the power of the souls within him and reached out for Gabriel’s Grace, scattered across the universe in billions of tiny fragments. Slowly he pulled them together, forcing them back into the empty shell before him and shaping them into the Archangel-turned-Trickster he had once known.

Castiel stumbled as he finished his task, just barely catching himself on the table before he fell. He could feel his brother in the Vessel before him and knew that he had succeeded, although just barely. Gabriel would need time to recharge his Grace and a safe place to stay with people who knew how to take care of weakened angels, and unfortunately that place wasn’t with the Sam and Dean.

Castiel landed outside a darkened bookstore in London, Gabriel heavy in his arms as he set the unconscious angel down on the step and knocked on the door.

“Find the Winchesters, brother,” he said quietly. “They will need your help.”

Castiel disappeared with a flutter of wings just before the door opened. Another angel stepped out, a puzzled look on his face that was quickly replaced with one of shock when he saw who was lying on his doorstep. “Oh, where’s that demon when I need his help?” he muttered. He dug out a cellphone, quickly dialing a familiar number as he knelt down next to the unconscious angel.

_“Zira?”_

“Crowley my dear, I need you to return here for a moment,” the angel, Aziraphale, said more calmly than he felt.

The demon Crowley was at his side a split-second later, suit wrinkled and still in the process of sobering up, but present nonetheless. “What’s he doing here?” he demanded, gaping down at where Gabriel was laying.

“I don’t know. I just found him like this,” Aziraphale said. His calm demeanor was starting to fade, being replaced with an ever-growing sense of panic. “I need to get him inside, which means _you_ have to adjust your over-the-top wards on my bookstore.”

Crowley waved his hand absently, changing the warding just enough to allow Gabriel safe access to the house, and helped Aziraphale pick up the Archangel. They carefully carried him inside, Crowley once again sealing the door with a thought behind them.


	2. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit spoilers for Supernatural 7x04.
> 
> Also, in case this isn't clear, the scenes in italics are supposed to be dreams.

Dean took another drink of his beer, eyes scanning the webpage he had opened. He was trying to find a new hunt for him and Sam, something to distract him from the wreck his life had become. He felt like he was drowning, like he had been the one to disappear into that lake instead of-

He took another drink.

The door to the motel room opened and Dean kept his eyes focused on the laptop as Sam walked in. He couldn’t deal with his brother right now, didn’t trust himself not to spill the secret of Amy’s death, didn’t trust himself to hold it together if- when- Sam tried to bring up what happened to Castiel, because as much as he tried to convince himself that the bastard got what he deserved he didn’t believe it. Not really.

“Find anything?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. Here, take a look at this.” He turned the laptop around to face his brother as Sam passed him the food he had bought. “Guy found dead in his tenth-floor apartment but get this- it looks like he was hit by a car.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and scanned the article. “We should definitely check this out.”

“It’s only a couple of hours from here,” Dean said around a mouthful of food. “We can head out in the morning.” He took another swig of his beer, glancing over at his brother and seeing the frown on Sam’s face. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing, it’s just… Are you okay?” Sam asked.

 _Jesus fucking Christ, here we go_. “I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean said, focusing on his food and not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“Really? So you haven’t been trying to drink yourself into oblivion all day?” Sam asked, staring pointedly at the small collection of empty bottles that had gathered on the table around Dean over the course of the day.

“Shut up.”

“Dean, you have to talk about it at some point,” Sam said. “I know how much Castiel meant to you and keeping everything bottled up won’t help-”

“No seriously, Sam, shut the hell up,” Dean interrupted. “Maybe you had your mind set on a little heart to heart but that ain’t gonna happen because see, during those three weeks when I was stuck in that damn cabin with my leg busted up I had a helluva lot of time to think about things so believe me when I say that I’m fine.”

“Dean-” Sam tried, but Dean was already shrugging his coat, swiping the car keys off the table, and storming out angrily.

The sound of his baby roaring to life helped calm Dean’s nerves as he pulled onto the empty road, needing to get some space, to get away, because the truth was Dean was far from fine. It seemed like every little thing reminded him of Castiel in a way that made his heart twist painfully, that constricted his chest and made even breathing nearly impossible.

But maybe Dean deserved it, maybe this was what he got for giving up on Castiel so easily. The angel had been his friend damnit, had meant something more to him, and what did he do? Try to get Death to kill him instead of trying to talk him down. And then, right at the end, Castiel had tried to apologize and Dean brushed it off like it meant nothing. Like Cas meant nothing, just like his problems had apparently meant nothing and the history between them meant nothing.

Dean pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the Impala, unlocking the trunk and digging through it until he found what he was looking for. He slammed the trunk shut and leaned up against the car, studying the tan trench coat in his hands.

 _“Technically it’s an overcoat,”_ the angel had once said, but it had already become ingrained in Dean’s mind as The Trench Coat and he couldn’t be bothered to change that.

It was dry now, though it still had faint water stains and the rusty red of Castiel’s blood on it. For all that Dean could try to convince himself that he had gotten over what happened to Castiel and moved past it, it only took was one glance at the coat in his hands for the guilt and pain to come back.

“You weren’t supposed to leave, Cas,” Dean said, his voice thick with emotion. “Everyone else always leaves me, but no matter what you were always there. And I’m a friggin’ bastard for not being there for you.”

He turned the coat over in his hands, smoothing the fabric out. “You knew though, right Cas? That I forgave you? ‘Cause I know I never said it, but I don’t say a lot of things. I never told you how much you meant to me but I know you knew that. You must have because you always know about shit like that. So just get your ass back here so I can say it to your face.”

Dean blinked furiously, quickly wiping his eyes before any tears could actually fall.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, leaning up against his baby, lost in his memories. Remembering the first time he saw Castiel, back when he still didn’t believe in angels and thought he was dealing with another monster he had to gank. Remembering Castiel almost falling for him, and the phone call from a then-human angel who was lying in a hospital bed. Remembering Castiel’s first death. And his second.

And now his third.

After what seemed like hours Dean stood up silently and got back in the Impala, setting Castiel’s trench coat gently on the seat next to him instead of back in the trunk.

He was surprised that Sam was already out for the count by the time he returned and Dean was quiet as he moved around the room, shucking his clothes until he was just in his boxers and climbing underneath the covers of his own bed. The trench coat was folded neatly on the floor next to his bed and Dean let his arm dangle off the side of the mattress, his fingertips just brushing the top of it as he fell asleep.

XXXXX

Sam wanted to kick himself.

He knew Dean wasn’t one to talk about his feelings but no, he had to be stupid enough to try and push his brother into it anyway and, in all likelihood, he had only made things worse. Sam didn’t even know what else to try now, how to help Dean when his brother preferred to brush him away and pretend like nothing was wrong.

“Aren’t you the hypocrite, Sammy? Dean’s not the only one lying to his brother right now.”

Sam gritted his teeth and tried to block the voice out. So maybe he hadn’t been honest with Dean about how… persistent… Lucifer was. But Sam was managing it, he was better now-

“And isn’t that what Dean would say about his feelings for little Cas?” Lucifer drawled from where he was leaning up against the motel room wall. “He’d say he was _fine,_ just like you’re _fine_ …”

Sam dug his thumb into the healing scar on his palm, not even bothering to give the Devil a proper response.

Lucifer flickered for a moment, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’ll be coming right back, Sammy. Don’t you worry,” he said before disappearing completely.

Sam let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been holding and buried his head in his hands. It was times like this that made it difficult for Sam to believe that Lucifer really was a hallucination; those moments when the Morningstar pointed out harsh truths that even Sam hadn’t noticed always shook his perception of reality more than anything else.

The fact was that Sam was fucking terrified. Despite the façade he put on for Dean’s sake, he was constantly on edge, waiting for Lucifer to end this latest mind-fuck and his world to come crumbling down again. Honestly the only reason he hadn’t assumed the fetal position and waited for the inevitable was because he knew if he wasn’t strong for Dean his brother was crack as well.

Sam pushed aside the wilted salad that had been his dinner, his appetite suddenly gone. He knew that there were things he should be doing- there was equipment that needed to be checked and cleaned and someone had to make a list of what supplies they needed, at the very least- but he couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything.

He shuffled over to his bed and flopped down on it, toeing off his shoes and pulling the blankets up without even bothering to get undressed.

He’d be awake in a couple of hours from nightmares anyway.

XXXXX

_Sam was standing in a field of golden grass that stretched in all directions for as far as he could see. It should have been a calming sight, but instead Sam started to panic. His dreams had been nightmares for as long as could remember, and part of him refused to believe that this was anything other than another trick of Lucifer’s. Maybe the Devil was trying to lure him into a false sense of security before ripping it all away. Wasn’t that what he said he was doing with the Dean-reality anyway?_

_“Will you stop angsting so loud over there? Some of us are trying to catch some shut-eye.”_

_Sam inhaled sharply, fear spiking through his veins. He knew that voice, it was impossible to forget, but its owner was dead. This had to be another trick, pun not intended, but Sam had no idea what Lucifer was planning now, what the Devil would eventually get out of all of this._

_A head popped up over the top of the grass and Sam’s suspicions were confirmed. Gabriel was staring at him in shock for a moment and the shorter Archangel had to tilt his head almost completely back just to look up at him. Then the familiar grin was there, the corners of Gabriel’s mouth quirking up in a way that was almost painfully familiar to Sam. “What, no warm welcome back for the Trickster who saved your ass?”_

_“You’re dead,” Sam found himself saying, because maybe if he pointed out the obvious flaw in Lucifer’s latest manipulation he’d abandon this plan and Sam could go back to the Devil he knew, so to speak._

_“Was dead. Seems someone liked me enough to bring me back.”_

_Sam shook his head violently because that just wasn’t possible. “No. No, this isn’t real,” he insisted, stumbling in his attempt to get as far away from this newest hallucination as possible. He unconsciously dug his thumb into the scar on his palm again, pain instantly radiating across his hand, but the image of Gabriel didn’t flicker in the slightest._

_Gabriel scrambled to his feet. “Whoa there, Sammy, calm down. I swear this isn’t another trick, I really am alive again.”_

_Sam shook his head again. He didn’t know why the pain didn’t help this time, why Gabriel was still there, but this had to be another illusion. It just had to be. “I know what’s going on, and this isn’t real,” Sam said, though whether he was trying to convince Gabriel or himself he didn’t know._

_“Okay, let’s pretend for a minute that I don’t know what’s going on, and I’d like to point out that I really don’t, so how about you explain things to me?”_

_Sam eyed him warily. He didn’t really believe that Gabriel had no idea what was going on, but he was willing to play along, at least for a little bit. “It’s all in my mind again,” he said. “Like Lucifer.”_

_There was a flash of something in Gabriel’s eyes when he mentioned Lucifer, but it was gone before Sam could pinpoint exactly what it was. “What about my brother?” Gabriel asked in an even voice that it was impossible to read anything from._

_Sam sighed, honestly not even sure how to begin explaining what had happened since he last saw Gabriel. “Do you know anything that happened after the motel?”_

_“Not really. I woke up in an unformed dreamscape awhile back, and just drifted around until I had the strength to make this.” He motioned to the field around them. “Though I’m hoping the fact that you’re here talking to me means that you chuckleheads won.”_

_“Yeah, we did. Still not sure how, but we followed your advice and used the Horsemen’s rings to trap Lucifer back in his cage.”_

_“How’d you manage to trick him down there?”_

_Sam looked away as he answered. “We didn’t. I said yes, managed to take control for a split-second, and jumped in. Pulled Michael down as well while he was wearing our half-brother Adam.” He took a deep breath, trying to get his emotions back under control before continuing. “Anyway, I was pulled up not long after that and someone pulled my grandfather down. I worked with him, and the rest of my mom’s relatives, for a year. Tried to let Dean live a normal life with his girl, you know? But Dean got pulled back into it and… I had known something wasn’t right with me, but Castiel finally confirmed that I had been brought back without a soul.”_

_Gabriel whistled lowly. “No one’s supposed to go walking around without that.”_

_“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam said. “I was completely emotionless, and some of the things I did during that year… I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for them. But Dean made a deal with Death, something about wearing his ring for a day in exchange for my soul back. Death put up this wall in my mind to stop my memories of the Pit from coming through but…”_

_Sam’s voice trailed off as he realized that he had no idea how to explain Castiel’s betrayal to Gabriel. He didn’t know if the two had been particularly close, but after what Gabriel had died for he would bet that the Archangel had agreed with his brother’s decisions at the very least._

_“So let me guess, the wall broke down and you can’t tell whether you’re in the Pit or back on Earth, am I right?” Gabriel ventured, breaking the silence. Sam just nodded, unable to say anything. “Who the hell brought you back in pieces? And why hasn’t my little brother fixed you up yet?”_

_Sam knew something must have shown on his face because he could see Gabriel start to shut down as the angel began to realize what must have happened. “Where’s Castiel?” he asked quietly._

_“He’s dead,” Sam said, his voice cracking slightly. He had forgiven Castiel for breaking the wall in Sam’s mind, if only because Sam at least had all of his memories back now, and because he knew how much his own brother was hurting because of this. “A couple of weeks ago. We tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to us.”_

_“Listen to you about what?” Gabriel snapped._

_“It was Castiel who brought me back, though he said he didn’t mean to leave my soul behind. After we trapped Lucifer and Michael in the pit a civil war broke out in Heaven. Cas wasn’t strong enough to take on Raphael by himself, so Crowley approached him with an offer. They would work together to open Purgatory, and in exchange for half the souls to help him hold onto his position as King of Hell, Castiel could take what he needed to fight Raphael.”_

_Gabriel rubbed his face; the angel looked exhausted. “And the chucklehead didn’t tell you, did he?”_

_“Not a word,” Sam said. “We eventually figured it out ourselves, but by then he was too invested in it to stop. But I guess he had a falling-out with Crowley, because he tricked him and opened Purgatory himself and consumed all the souls.”_

_“But that would make him a…”_

_“A god, yeah. And believe me, he exacted plenty of divine judgment,” Sam said. “Killed Raphael outright and didn’t stop there. But the souls weren’t the only thing he took in when he opened Purgatory, and everything else started to eat away at him. So he tried to give it all up, but they stayed behind. Took over his Vessel, said he was dead, and we’ve been hunting them ever since.”_

_Gabriel looked like he was torn between overwhelming sadness and fierce anger at the situation, and Sam said softly, “I’m sorry, Gabriel. For what it’s worth, I wish we could have saved him.”_

_“What does it matter?” Gabriel asked, his voice bitter. “You don’t even think I’m actually alive.”_

_Sam shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe this is real and everything else is just a hallucination.”_

_“Hallucinating that you’re stuck here with me? Kiddo, this is your lucky day.”_

_Sam grinned slightly. It was obvious that Gabriel’s joke was forced, but he was willing to play along. “Yeah, right. After all the shit you’ve put us through? More like a nightmare, instead of a hallucination.”_

_“Oh no, this is my dreamscape and being stuck with you for eternity? Pretty far from a nightmare.”_

_The Archangel smirked and looked pointedly up and down Sam’s body. Sam was suddenly struck by the realization that this wasn’t real, that of all the things his mind could conjure he apparently came up with a flirting Gabriel, and he found himself blushing._

XXXXX

Dean groaned as the motel alarm clock went off, the radio station more static than music. He fumbled with it for a moment before finally managing to turn it off, sighing as the room fell back into blissful silence. He sat up with a groan, stretching. His right arm was sore from hanging over the side of the bed in such an awkward position all night.

Dean paused, suddenly remembering why he had fallen asleep with his arm stretched down beside the bed. He carefully grabbed the trench coat from where he had set it down the night before and studied it carefully. In the daylight it was easier to see the wear on the coat and Dean’s heart twisted at the reminded that the coat’s owner, who used to keep it so pristine, was gone. For a brief moment he toyed with the idea of getting it dry cleaned, but logically he knew that there was no place to take it where the bloodstains wouldn’t be questioned.

He left the coat sitting on the bed as he grabbed a change of clothes and headed into the bathroom. He wanted to get on the road as quickly as possible, wanted to throw himself into another hunt and drink himself into oblivion when he was done. It was the only tried-and-true way to deal with the shit in his life, and even if Sam would call it self-destructive it worked for him.

Sam was awake by the time he left the bathroom. Dean braced himself for another confrontation, but it never came. Sam was looking around the room with barely-concealed panic and confusion and Dean frowned, asking, “Hey, everything alright?”

Sam started, as if he hadn’t even realized that Dean was there. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s… fine.”

Dean nodded slowly. He wasn’t going to buy that for a minute. “Still seeing that S.O.B. everywhere?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible.

Sam stared at him, still looking vaguely terrified and dazed. “Who?”

“Jesus Christ, how out of it are you?” Dean asked. “Lucifer, the Devil. The bastard who tried to convince you that this wasn’t real. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Lucifer. Right, yeah,” Sam said and Dean could have sworn he heard relief in his brother’s voice for a moment. “I mean, no, I haven’t been seeing him.”

“Really.”

“He’s not here now, Dean, I swear,” Sam said, his voice sincere. “Just had a fucked up dream, that’s all.”

Dean knew that there was a difference between not seeing the Devil _now_ and not seeing him _at all_ , but he figured now wasn’t the time to start up that conversation. “Clowns or midgets, then?” he asked instead, the words sounding vaguely familiar to him though he couldn’t place their exact origin.

Except the sharp inhale from Sam and the look of panic in his eyes told Dean that his brother at least remembered hearing that before. “What? What’s wrong?”

Sam flung the covers off him and grabbed clean clothes from his bag. “Broward County, Dean,” Sam said before retreating into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him.

Sam heard his brother’s muffled curse through the door as Dean realized where his little quip was from, but he had no idea just how monumentally horrible his timing for it really was. Sam had no idea what his dream of Gabriel meant, whether it was his own fucked-up mind or another side effect of his time in the Pit, and even though it hadn’t exactly been a nightmare per se it was still out of the ordinary for him and that was enough to set him on edge.

Despite that, he had to admit that it was the first time he had slept relatively peacefully through the night in a long time and it was nice to wake feeling refreshed for once. He showered quickly, knowing that Dean probably wanted to hit the road as soon as possible, and sure enough the Impala was already half-packed by the time Sam left the bathroom.

“Finally. You took friggin’ long enough,” Dean said as he walked back into the motel room.

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved his dirty laundry back into his bag, grabbing his shoes from where he had left them the night before. “Shut up, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied automatically, his lips tugging up in the faintest of smirks.

Sam smothered a grin of his own. He was sure, at some point, there would be another confrontation about their emotional repression but for now they were both content to let things slide.

And if Sam saw a familiar-looking trench coat now laying carefully on the backseat of the Impala, he was wise enough not to bring it up just then.

XXXXX

“There’s an archangel. In my guest room,” Aziraphale said, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “There’s an archangel in my guest room. An archangel who has been missing for millennia, that no one knew what had happened to. And he’s in my guest room. Unconscious. Unconscious in my guest room.”

“Yeah, well we have bigger problems to worry about than just that,” Crowley muttered from where he was leaning up against the doorframe.

 Aziraphale stopped his pacing and turned to face the demon. “Did you say something, my dear?” he asked, with obviously forced calmness. “You’re being surprisingly quiet, considering our circumstances.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Crowley said, pushing off of the doorframe and stepping towards Aziraphale.

“Care to enlighten me then?”

Crowley shrugged. “I could. You’re not going to like the story, though.”

“Try me.”

Crowley took a few more steps forward until he was looking down at the unconscious form on the bed. Though it had been several years since he had seen him, he would recognize that face anywhere. He would even recognize that particular flavor of Grace, though it hadn’t been there when they had first met.

“I first ran into him a couple of millennia ago,” Crowley said. “Must have been just after he skipped Heaven and got settled in down here. See, your mighty Archangel, God’s Messenger, he’s been slumming with pagans since he left. Set himself up as Loki the Trickster and has been dealing out just desserts ever since.”

“You’re lying,” Aziraphale said, though there was a trace of doubt in his eyes, as if he didn’t truly believe his own words.

“You know I’m not,” Crowley told him, his voice a bit gentler. “He couldn’t bear to see his brothers fighting each other, so he left. You should be able to relate to that.”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply and looked away, unable to meet the demon’s eyes. It was true, one of the many reasons he had left was because of the constant fighting, but for Gabriel to join the pagans? To become a part of that depravity? “But still… how could he do _that_?”

“You leave Heaven and there’s a hole left behind. Not everyone is lucky enough to have an Arrangement to fill it with,” Crowley said.

“Did you know? When you first met him?” Aziraphale asked. “Did you know who he was?”

Crowley shook his head. “He’d pushed his Grace so far down I doubt he even remembered it was there most of the time. Took up in a pagan-made body too, not a Vessel or a corporation like yours. Not even Michael would have been able to recognize him.”

“Then why is he here now, like this?” Aziraphale motioned vaguely towards the bed, no doubt referring to Gabriel’s unconscious state. “His Grace is practically smothering the room it’s so out of control, or what’s left of his Grace anyway.”

To the angel’s surprise it was Crowley’s turn to look away and Aziraphale narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The demon was keeping something from him, and though that shouldn’t have been a surprise there were actually only a few things between them that were worthy of being kept secret; the thought of this being related to _any_ of them did not do anything to improve Aziraphale’s mood. “Crowley, what aren’t you telling me?”

“He found the Vessels,” Crowley said. “Michael’s and Lucifer’s. Sam and Dean Winchester. Met them a couple different times as the Trickster in fact, if the rumors are correct. But then he tried to convince them to say yes so they could get the Apocalypse over with. So he wouldn’t have to watch his brothers die anymore. But they figured out who he was. Trapped him in a circle of holy fire and, from what I’ve heard, ripped him a new one over being too afraid to stand up to his family to save the world.”

Aziraphale was silent and Crowley took that as a sign to continue. “He finally did stand up for what he believed in. Saved the Winchesters and one of his old pagan friends from Lucifer but he…  Well, it’s a lot harder to trick the Devil, if you get my drift.”

It took a few moments for the angel to process what Crowley was saying. “Are you saying that he… he was killed? By Lucifer?” Crowley nodded. “You knew about this and didn’t think that it was something I needed to know, _because_ …?”

“Because it wasssss the Apocalypssssse, Zira, and the lesssss you knew the better!” Crowley hissed loudly, his old fear over his angel’s safety coming through clearly.

“So it’s fine for you to work to stop the Apocalypse, but I’m still not even allowed to hear about it?” Aziraphale asked in irritation. This was still a touchy subject between them, one that they tried not to discuss at length and not without being properly drunk first.

“Don’t pin thisss on me! You were the one who sssuggested the wardsss on the bookssstore!” Crowley pointed out angrily.

“You know I only did that because you were supposed to stay here with me, Crowley,” Aziraphale reminded him.

“Well sorry if becoming a part-time Crossroads Demon doesn’t give me the luxury of hiding away,” Crowley said sarcastically. “And I’ll have you know that I did help them out, more than you know!”

“And whose fault is it that I don't know, my dear? You're the one who's still refusing to tell me anything, even though it's been two years since everything ended!” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shook his head. “There are some things you still don’t need to know about.”

Aziraphale exhaled slowly, trying to reign in his anger. In a way, he could understand where the demon was coming from, could understand the worry over his well-being. But Crowley’s continued silence on the matter rubbed him the wrong way, made him wonder exactly what the demon felt he needed to keep secret. Was it a higher position in Hell? Something he did that he’s ashamed of? Aziraphale didn’t know, and that was bothering him more than anything.

Crowley was still watching him carefully, his gaze guarded in ways that it hadn’t been before this mess began and Aziraphale sighed. There were too many things between them that they needed to work out, but now wasn’t the time for it. He could understand why Crowley kept this from him, even if he didn’t agree with it.

“So Gabriel was dead,” he said, smoothly bringing their conversation back around to the subject at hand. “And now he’s not. Why?”

Crowley shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but his relief at the subject change was obvious. “That I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t reek of pagan magic, but I have a feeling if Go- if someone else brought him back he’d be a bit more complete."

“Yes, God would have brought Gabriel back with his Grace whole,” Aziraphale said, nodding slowly. “But there isn’t anyone else powerful enough to do this.”

Crowley’s thoughts drifted back to Castiel. He had left briefly to get news about the angel-turned-God after helping move Gabriel inside and he had heard that the little Thursday Angel was dead, his Vessel taken over by Leviathans. He suspected that Castiel was the one that had resurrected Gabriel, although for what purpose he didn’t know. The smart thing to do would be to get in contact with the Winchesters, see if Castiel had mentioned anything to them before kicking the bucket, but the demon knew that if he did that then they would find out about Aziraphale and his angel would be dragged into his mess and he was not about to let that happen.

Not to mention the possibility of the Winchesters trying to kill them both, just on principle.

“Well, can you miracle him better at least?” Crowley asked, smoothly steering the subject to a slightly different topic.

Aziraphale shook his head. “It doesn’t quite work like that, my dear. I can try to strengthen his Grace with my own but there’s no guarantee that would even work.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to give it a go though, right?” Crowley pointed out. He moved back to his original position leaning against the door, arms crossed and watching Aziraphale closely. “Go on then.”

Aziraphale sighed and smiled wryly at the demon. “If you’re not going to leave, I’d suggest at least closing your eyes.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Angel,” Crowley said with a smirk.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, steadfastly ignoring the flush that crept over his face. “This is a bit different than that, my dear, trust me. “

Crowley was still smirking as he closed his eyes and Aziraphale took a moment to make sure that the demon had actually listened to him; the last thing he wanted was to accidentally burn out Crowley’s eyes or worse, kill him.

Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the bed next to Gabriel and rested his hand gently on the Archangel’s chest. He reached out tentatively with his Grace, wrapping it around his brother and working carefully to meld it with Gabriel’s own Grace. Even under normal circumstances such a healing would be difficult; Gabriel’s part-pagan nature and both of their separations from Heaven made the task almost impossible. Every piece of Gabriel’s Grace fought the other angel’s attempt to strengthen it, but Aziraphale was nothing if not stubborn and he kept working, brilliant white light flooding the room and consuming the two figures on the bed.

Aziraphale finally slumped down, pulling his Grace back tight within himself and swaying slightly. “Crowley, it’s… you can…” he murmured, trying- and failing- to focus his thoughts as he began to fall forward.

But Crowley was there, catching him before he could hit the floor and pushing him back onto the bed so he was lying down next to Gabriel. “Rest, Zira,” the demon said softly, brushing Aziraphale’s hair out of his eyes.

“Don’t leave,” Aziraphale whispered, reaching out to grab Crowley’s arm as the demon started to move away.

Crowley sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing soothing circles on the back of Aziraphale’s hand that he would later deny. “I won’t leave you, not this time, you insufferable Angel,” he said. “I’ll be right here, watching over you- over both of you. I promise.”

But Aziraphale was already asleep, dozing lightly for the first time in decades next to the once-dead Archangel.

Crowley sighed, and settled in for the wait. As if his existence wasn’t strange enough already.

XXXXX

“Sam! Jesus Christ, Sammy, what the hell’s up with you today?”

Sam shook his head, as if doing so could shake him out of the mental funk he’d been in since waking up that morning. He hadn’t seen Lucifer since the night before, hadn’t seen Gabriel either, but he still waited anxiously for the other shoe to drop and things to go to pieces again. “Sorry, Dean,” he muttered. “You were saying?”

Dean glanced at him worriedly. It wasn’t like Sam to be this distracted, but Dean didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding like he didn’t trust his brother, without starting another argument about his own issues. “I was saying that we’re almost at that town. I figured we could grab a motel room, get changed into our suits and go over the facts of the case before heading out,” he said instead, choosing his words carefully.

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds fine,” Sam said absently, his mind already going back to analyzing his dream.

Dean sighed, cranking up the music and finally giving up on getting a straight answer out of his brother. Something was up with Sammy, and he just hoped that he got over whatever it was before they started working the case. The last thing he needed was for his brother to put their lives in danger because he wasn’t paying attention.

Luckily, focusing on the case seemed to bring Sam back into reality a little bit. Both brothers knew that dealing with a hunt was the best way to push any other thoughts aside, and this one was no exception.

“So tell me again what’s going on here,” Sam said as he set his duffle on one of the beds and dug through it until he found his suit. It was wrinkled and smelled horrible and, judging from the glare Dean was giving at his own suit, his brother’s was as well.

And Sam knew who would be stuck ironing them and trying to remove the smell of B.O.- and it wasn’t Dean.

“This guy, Matthew Hammond, was found dead up in his apartment last night. All signs point to him being killed by a car, but he’s on the tenth floor of an apartment building,” Dean explained. “Police are useless. No idea how it happened or what’s going on, and no clue what they’re actually looking for.”

“Toss me your suit. I can smell it from over here. Do we still have the spray bottle with the white vinegar?” Sam asked as he wrestled the ironing board down and turned on the iron. “So what are you thinking? Spirit, demon, something else…?”

“How the fuck should I know if we still have your magic vinegar spray bottle? Check the trunk of the Impala if it’s not in any of your bags,” Dean said as he tossed his suit onto Sam’s bed. “And I don’t know what’s behind this. The police have found exactly jacksquat that is useful, so until we get over there to actually investigate this, your guess is as good as mine.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and rechecked his bag for the missing spray bottle. “Then at least double-check the recent police reports while I make sure our suits are somewhat presentable,” he said irritably as he found what he was looking for and began attacking the suits with the vinegar spray.

The problem with their job was that there often wasn’t enough time to take care of things like dry cleaning, not with how often they moved around. If they stuck around Bobby’s place for a while they would run the suits down to a little place in Sioux Falls, but barring that they were on their own. Sam didn’t remember where he had picked up the trick of using white vinegar to help alleviate odors, but every time they had to dig their unwashed suits out of their duffle bags he was immensely grateful that, somehow, he had learned how to do this.

Dean watched from where he was sprawled across his bed with Sam’s laptop, grinning as his brother grabbed a couple of threadbare towels from the bathroom and waited patiently for the ancient iron to heat up all the way. Sam was lifesaver sometimes with these little tricks that helped disguise the fact that the suits hadn’t been washed in several cases, but Dean still couldn’t resist teasing his brother. “You know, you’d make a lovely little housewife someday, Samantha.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam said as he grabbed Dean’s suit and began to iron it with a bit more ferocity than was actually called for.

Dean laughed and said, “Bitch. And there’s no new information out about the case, so when you’re done playing maid we need to head out.”

Sam threw Dean’s suit at him and began to iron out his own. “There. Get ready, if you’re so eager to get started.”

Dean’s good mood immediately vanished. Sure, he had teased his brother a bit, but he always did that. No reason for Sam to start throwing a fit. “Fine. Just hurry up, we don’t have all friggin’ day,” he said as he stormed into the bathroom to get changed.

Sam sighed angrily, turning off the iron and starting to get changed into his own suit. He had been doing fine for a while, hadn’t been thinking about his stupid dream from the night before, so why the hell was he so pissed off all of a sudden?

“I’ll give you three guesses, Sammy.”

Sam inhaled sharply. He didn’t need to turn around to know who that voice belonged to, but right then he would have taken a million dreams of Gabriel over having to face down Lucifer even once more.

XXXXX

Dean was sometimes amazed at quickly their cases could go to pieces sometimes. One minute he had been preparing for a date with the smokin’ hot bartender, the next he found himself in a barn, chained up and staring down the god Osiris.

“Objection!”

Dean should have been glad that Sam was there to defend him, and God knows that there was no one else he’d trust with that job, but his mind was a million miles away. _Three witnesses_. Osiris had said that he would call three witnesses to help prove Dean’s guilt. There were probably hundreds of people that Osiris could have called on, but Dean knew that there was really only one that would prove anything beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Very fine objection. _Denied_.”

“What!? Why?”

“Because I’m the judge, son.”

Dean thought that he might have said something, muttered something encouraging to his brother, but he could barely remember it. Instead his mind was filled with the image of a bloodied, broken angel telling him that he’ll find a way to redeem himself. The same body but with a vastly different inhabitant telling him that Castiel was dead. And Dean knew that if Osiris called on Castiel to testify, he would admit his guilt then and there. There was no way Dean could try to deny anything Castiel threw at him.

With that thought firmly in place, Dean was surprised that the first witness wasn’t the angel at all, but Jo. Even in death she was the same as ever, and it somehow still managed to tear at Dean’s heart just when he thought he was already at his lowest. When it was Sam’s turn to ask the questions he managed to ask just the right ones to help alleviate some of the blame Osiris had put on Dean. For a moment, he could see the lawyer Sam might have been and Dean hated himself just a little bit more for dragging his brother away from that.

“Prosecution calls Sam Winchester to the stand.”

And damnit, they should have seen that coming. Sam was right up there with Cas on Dean’s list of people he’s hurt the most, and this wasn’t going to be pleasant to watch.

“Sam. Not exactly the life you expected, is it?” Osiris asked casually, as if he was having a simple discussion instead of presiding over a trial that would determine Dean’s fate.

Sam shrugged. “Detail’s a little different.”

“For a while there you were going to be a real lawyer. Marry Jess…”

“Yeah, that was a long time ago,” Sam said with something that could almost be considered a laugh.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if his brother was really as over all of that as he seemed, and when Sam didn’t give a straight answer to the next question Dean knew that there was probably a lot Sam blamed him for. Maybe not consciously, but it was still there. Little things, fights and arguments and things that were said that Dean hasn’t forgiven himself for yet.

And even if Sam didn’t blame him, if somehow Sam had found it in himself to actually _forgive_ his brother, Dean knew that there was a list a mile long of people he had hurt, had gotten killed. Sam was on that list himself, and their father, Pamela, Jo and Ellen…

Castiel.

Sam watched his brother carefully. He knew what was going through Dean’s mind, knew that he was blaming himself for the death that seemed to follow them around. And Osiris’s words were hitting a little too close to home for Sam’s comfort, but while he was on that stand he spoke the truth. He didn’t blame Dean for what happened, hadn’t in a long time; one way or another Azazel and the other demons would have made sure he returned to hunting. It wasn’t Dean’s fault.

“This is solely about how Dean feels, way down deep.”

Sam’s heart plummeted and he met Dean’s eyes, easily reading everything his brother was feeling. If this really was up to Dean, then he was going to die that night.

“I want to call Dean to the stand,” Sam said. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort and he was pretty sure they all knew it, but he had to try to help his brother anyway.

Sam wasn’t stupid; he knew his brother was overflowing with guilt. The evidence could be found in any motel room they stayed at, in the empty beer bottles and always-present flask. In the arguments that they kept having and Dean’s reluctance to talk about it. In the trench coat that was still sitting in the motel room. And Sam knew that Dean’s chances of walking out of this were slim to none, but he would be damned if he let his brother die before had a chance to smack him upside the head for being such a fucking idiot and not letting go of the past.

Dean had no idea how he got through the rest of the trial, or how Sam stopped Osiris before Jo could kill him. He didn’t remember packing the Impala after that or actually driving out of the town. He was in the midst of a psychological breakdown, everything from the past hunt and before finally catching up with him and he tried desperately to force it back down, to lock it away once more.

It wasn’t until he was standing by the Impala, drinking a beer with his brother, that he finally started to feel like he might have been able to function with something approaching normalcy. He teasingly complimented Sam about being a good lawyer and meant it, the words coming to him easily instead of being forced out, and for a minute everything was actually almost fine.

Until Sam went and started asking questions.

“So who was he talking about?”

“Who?” Dean asked. It was a pointless response; he knew exactly what Sam was getting at.

“That whole final witness thing,” Sam explained.

“No idea,” Dean lied. “Honestly, that could be just about anyone dead we know.”

Except there’s really only one person it could have been, but if Osiris wanted to call Castiel he would skipped Jo and Sam and called him up first. Get the maximum amount of guilt in the shortest possible time. And part of Dean wanted to think that maybe there was a reason Castiel wasn’t called, that maybe he _couldn’t_ have been called, but Dean couldn’t start to think like that. He would have dragged himself down with false hopes and half-dreams if he let that train of thought continue.

But Castiel wasn’t the only recent death on Dean’s mind, and even though he hated himself for killing his brother’s good mood so soon after explaining how he “feels good”, Dean had to get _something_ off his chest before he snapped completely.

“Sam, there’s something I gotta tell you,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind. “About Amy.”

Sam let a slow breath, his smile fading. “Dean, I know.”

“I know you told me that you trusted her, but-” Dean stopped, finally processing his brother’s words. “Wait a second. What do you mean, you know?”

“I mean, I went back to her house to make sure she had really left and saw… Well, saw her dead,” Sam explained. “Wasn’t that hard to figure out who did it.”

“I’m not going to apologize, Sammy,” Dean warned, because he wasn’t. He felt guilty about lying to his brother, not about killing that monster because despite what Sam thought that’s all she was.

“I didn’t expect you to,” Sam said curtly. “I was angry at first, angry that you didn’t trust me to make the call on this, but I know why you did what you did and even if I don’t agree with it at all… I can understand it.”

He could see Lucifer out of the corner of his eye, watching him from over the top of the Impala. Yeah, he could understand why Dean did it, because if he was in Dean’s position he wouldn’t trust him either.

“So… We good then?” Dean asked cautiously.

 _No, we aren’t good, because you still won’t talk about Castiel_ , Sam wanted to say but he knew he had filled up Dean’s chick-flick quota for the day- hell, probably the whole _week_ knowing his brother- and that it was better to let things go for the time being. “I’m not going to grab my stuff and leave, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he joked instead, and when he saw the relief flash across his brother’s face he knew he had made the right call.

They finished their beers in comfortable silence before hitting the road again. Sam took a grim pleasure in seeing Dean unknowingly drive through Lucifer, destroying the hallucination- for the time being, anyway.

Sam rested his head against the window as Dean drove. Lucifer’s absent immediately put Sam at ease and he felt the effects of the hunt slowly start to catch up to him, his eyes sliding shut seemingly of their own free will. Normally Sam would be forcing himself to stay awake, afraid of the nightmares that would be waiting for him, but instead he couldn’t help but wonder if he would dream of Gabriel again.

Despite the strangeness of it, and the reminder that his mind was still incredibly fucked up, his dream the night before hadn’t really been all that bad. Sam had hated Gabriel for a while, but after the angel’s death he had only felt pity for him and guilt for the fact that, if it hadn’t been for them, the former Trickster would still be alive. Sam idly wondered what had happened to Gabriel’s Vessel after his death, if anyone had found the body or if it had rotted in that motel surrounded by the ashy remains of his wings.

His wings. Did he really have thousands of them, as some of the lore indicated? Or only a few sets, maybe six wings total? Did they look like bird wings, as Dean had once described Castiel’s as, or like the arcs of lightening as Raphael had had?

Goddamnit. He must have been more exhausted than he originally thought if he was wondering what Gabriel’s wings looked like. Sam sighed, shifted slightly in his seat, and finally succumbed to sleep.

XXXXX

_Sam found himself in a familiar field of golden grass and couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Another night without a nightmare of Hell._

_“Still hallucinating me then?” Gabriel called. Sam couldn’t see the Archangel, but there was a tell-tale dip in the grass that indicated where he must have been sitting, hidden from view._

_“Looks like it,” Sam muttered as he walked over to where Gabriel was._

_“Gee, don’t sound so happy about it,” Gabriel said sarcastically as he leaned back to look up at the human._ _“There must be something here that keeps you coming back.”_

_“Yeah. My mind just enjoys fucking with me.” Sam couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. Although these dreams were better than the nightmares, ultimately they were still reminders of how broken his mind actually was. “And showing me the people I’ve gotten killed is the least I deserve.”_

_“Whoa, hold on there, bucko,” Gabriel said. “You two idiots didn’t get me killed, got that? I got myself killed, and Luci did the deed. Not you.”_

_Sam shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but probably failing miserably. How was it that Gabriel wasn’t blaming him for what had happened? If Sam blamed himself and Gabriel was a hallucination… Shouldn’t the Archangel be tearing him a new one right now?_

_Gabriel sighed and snapped his fingers, the sounds drawing Sam out of his thoughts just in time to see a candy bar being tossed to him. He caught it instinctively, eyeing it with some trepidation; Gabriel was a former Trickster after all. “What is it?”_

_“Candy, you chucklehead. Thought you’d at least know that,” Gabriel said as he shifted and rolled his shoulders slightly._

_“Yeah, but… Why?”_

_“Because you looked like someone kicked a puppy and I’m feeling nice today,” Gabriel said. “But for future reference, stop with the teenage angsting before you invade my place.”_

_Sam ignored the fact that Gabriel was having seemingly little difficulty reading his emotions, instead opting to glance pointedly around at the field, raising an eyebrow. “Your place is a field. Doesn’t really seem like your style.”_

_Gabriel shrugged. For the first time, he was the one who looked vaguely uncomfortable with their sudden topic of conversation. “It’s as good of a place as any to die,” he finally said._

_Sam couldn’t help pointing out, “But you’re already dead.”_

_“So you keep telling me,” Gabriel said, his tone once again light. “Now sit down and eat your damn candy bar. I’m pulling a muscle in my neck just looking up at you, Gigantor.”_

_Sam hesitated for a moment before slowly sitting down next to the Archangel. He unwrapped the candy bar, took a tentative bite, and couldn’t resist letting out a pleased moan at the taste. “This is good!” he said, which was a complete understatement because it was by far the best candy he had ever had._

_Gabriel laughed. “Of course it is! I only conjure up the best, after all. None of that cheapo mass-produced crap.”_

_Sam grinned and finished eating the candy bar slowly, savoring each bite of it, licking his fingers clean when he was done. He could feel Gabriel’s eyes on his as he ate but avoiding looking at the angel, not sure he wanted to read too far into that gaze. “So what exactly is there to do around here?” he asked instead._

_Gabriel’s eyes flicked down his own body and he smirked suggestively up at Sam._

_Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring the flutter in his stomach at the suggestion. “Not gonna happen.”_

_Gabriel simply raised his fingers, poised to snap. “Then what do you want, Sammy?”_

_Sam had no idea what he wanted, no idea where this dream was even going, so he shrugged and said, “I don’t really care. Just something to do that doesn’t involve just desserts or either of us ending up naked.”_

_Gabriel thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. A deck of cards appeared and he said, “How about we play a couple of hands?”_

_“What’s the catch?” Sam asked immediately, knowing that there had to be one; Archangel or not, Gabriel had spent far too long as a Trickster for there not to be a catch of some sort._

_“Winner gets free reign to do whatever they want,” Gabriel said with a smirk._

_Sam wasn’t convinced that this would be worth it. He had no idea what Gabriel would want to do if he won, and that alone was almost enough to make him say no. But then again, if Sam won he would be able to ask any number of questions that he had been wondering about. He could ask about the accuracy of the Loki myths, or about his wings, or anything._

_“Come on, it’ll be fun! And I’ll promise not to cheat,” Gabriel adds pleadingly._

_“Fine,” Sam relented, crumbling up the candy wrapper he was still holding and throwing it lightly at Gabriel. “You deal.”_

_Sam watched as Gabriel quickly dealt the entire deck out between them and raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s harder to cheat at War,” the Archangel said by means of explanation, although Sam’s pretty sure that, if he wanted to, Gabriel would be able to cheat at anything._

_Sam played the game with a forced casualness, trying to hide how tense he was to see the outcome of this because he knew that, if he won, he would never get an opportunity like this again. At the same time he fully expected Gabriel to cheat anyway, promise be damned, and Sam was honestly surprised when Gabriel ran out of cards first._

_“So Sammy, what does your little heart desire?” Gabriel asked flippantly, carelessly. “Food? Women?”_

_“It’s Sam, and no,” he muttered, his face blushing as he realized that what he was going to ask for was probably a bit too personal for the angel but hey, this was his hallucination and he was curious, damnit._

_“Then what?”_

_Sam looked away as he said, “It’s stupid but… I was wondering if I could see your wings. I mean, even after two years of dealing with angels on a pretty regular basis I’ve never seen any wings. Can you even show them, or is it like seeing your true form and my eyes will burn out?”_

_“No, I can manifest them on this plane. It’ll just take a lot of juice though, which is why most angels don’t bother,” Gabriel said in a voice that was just a bit more serious than it had been before. “I’d suggest you step back though, just to be safe.”_

_Sam hurriedly took a couple of steps away as Gabriel stripped from the waist up. He honestly hadn’t expected him to agree to this and watched with fascination as Gabriel stretched and arched his back, as if shaking out invisible wings. There was a brief moment of silence where Gabriel closed his eyes, and Sam gasped as a pair of wings formed behind the Archangel._

_First and foremost, they’re fucking huge, maybe 16 feet from one wingtip to the other. Sam almost expected them to dwarf the smaller man, but instead Gabriel carries them with a natural sort of nonchalance and Sam is struck by the sharp reminder that the being in front of him is an_ Archangel _. They aren’t the fluffy wings he’d half-thought they might be. There’s a sharpness to them, like the wings of a hawk as it dives for prey, and their golden honey color gleams in the sunlight._

_“Like something you see?” Gabriel asked smugly, shaking his wings out and stretching them to their full size._

_“Shut up,” Sam said, though he was still smiling like an idiot and his words didn’t have a bite to them. “So this is what your wings look like then.”_

_“What two of them look like right here at least,” Gabriel corrected. “I have thousands of others that are waves of celestial energy a different plane right now.”_

_If Gabriel wanted to impress Sam then he had succeeded. He studied the wings carefully, taking in every small detail about them; after all, hallucination or not he would never get a chance like this again. “Can I… Can I touch them?” he asked suddenly._

_“Sure, go ahead,” Gabriel said, though Sam wasn’t quite sure whether he imagined the tremor in the angel’s voice or not._

_Gabriel turned around to give Sam better access to his wings and Sam stepped forward slowly, telling himself that he should just back out now because he was positive that this had to be overstepping some boundary. Instead, he raised his hand and gently ran it along the top of Gabriel’s right wing._

_The angel shuddered at the touch and Sam pulled his hand away quickly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”_

_Gabriel tensed in front of him but said, “No, go on. It’s just been awhile since anyone’s done this.”_

_And Sam obeyed, stroking along the feathers of the right wing again. He curled his fingers, digging them in deep and felt them drag along the muscles underneath. Despite the sharpness that he initially attributed to them, the wings were amazingly soft and light and he said as much to the angel. Gabriel stayed silent and shifted a bit, suddenly inhaling sharply before his wings drew tight against his spine._

_“Gabriel?” he asked cautiously. He had no idea what was going on, whether he had done something wrong or not, so he opted to stay still, fingers still twisted in the feathers beneath his hands._

_Sam heard the angel draw in a shaky breath and the hunter shuddered at the sound, his cock giving an interested twitch and his mouth going suddenly dry._

 


	3. Part II

“So I figure we’ll head back up to Bobby’s, see if he’s figured anything out about these Leviathans…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he glanced over at Sam, who was by now fast asleep. “Right.”

The fingers of his right hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to turn up the volume on the radio just to annoy his brother, but no, Sam needed to sleep. He knew Sam thought he hadn’t noticed, but Dean knew that his little brother had been having nightmares again. Hell, they both had; that was the reason for swinging by Bobby’s place. Maybe with the old hunter around they’d be able to get some shuteye knowing that they’d be safe.

Although if Dean was being honest with himself, that was really only half the reason he wanted to stop by Bobby’s. Because even though he knew it was a stupid and dangerous thing to think, Dean was starting to believe that Castiel might still be alive. Yeah, he heard what the Leviathans said when they first took over the angel’s Vessel, but Osiris never called up Castiel.

Osiris, who had the power to call up the spirit of anyone _dead_ , never called Castiel to stand trial against him, despite the fact that that would have been the quickest way to get Dean to realize his guilt. So what if he didn’t call up Castiel because the angel wasn’t dead?

Dean knew better than to think like that, than to get his hopes up again, because if there’s one thing this life taught him it was that nothing good ever happened to him. But if he was right about this he would be able to fix everything with Cas. He’d be able to apologize for being such a dick and tell him that he really did care about him.

Hell, he’d be able to finally give the stoic bastard a freakin’ hug.

Dean yawned widely. He was completely drained after his near-death the night before and he felt like was on the verge of falling asleep at the wheel. He glanced over at his brother again and sighed. “Sorry, Sammy,” he muttered, before quickly turning the volume up on the radio.

Sam jerked awake, looking around in confusion. It took only a second or two for him realize that he was still in the Impala, that he had woken up after another dream of Gabriel. He groaned, letting his head hit the window as he realized just what had happened in the dream. Hindsight really was 20/20 because, now that he was awake again, it was easy to see Gabriel’s reactions for what they probably were.

Though he was really, _really_ hoping that he was wrong because the alternative would be admitting that he had probably just given Gabriel the angelic equivalent of a handjob- and admitting that his dream-self hadn’t seemed to be completely opposed to what was going on.

“Where the hell are we anyway?” Sam asked to distract himself from that train of thought.

“A couple of hours outside of Minneapolis,” Dean said.

“Dude, that’s like almost twelve fucking hours from our last hunt. We going anywhere in particular or did you just forget to stop driving?”

Dean scowled at Sam and said, “No. Figured we’d head back to Bobby’s, see if we can’t figure out something to do about these Leviathans before they start acting up again.”

“Right. And does Bobby know that we’re headed his way?” Sam asked. He sighed exasperatedly when his brother didn’t answer. “Dean…”

“I’ll call him when we stop to eat, alright?” Dean said with some irritation while Sam just laughed.

True to his word, after they stopped for dinner at a small diner and the waitress had taken their order, Dean dug out his cellphone and called Bobby. Sam only half-listened to his brother’s conversation. He was distracted by the figure of Lucifer leaning near the door of the diner. The fallen angel’s smirk was visible even from across the room and Sam couldn’t help but wonder what he found so amusing. Did he know how Sam couldn’t seem to stop his thoughts from drifting back to Gabriel? Did he know what had happened in the last dream?

“Well, you’ll never guess what Bobby’s got chained up in his basement,” Dean said, his voice loud enough to startle Sam from his thoughts.

“Considering this is _Bobby_ we’re talking about it could be almost anything,” Sam said, focusing on his brother again. “So what is it this time?”

“A Leviathan,” Dean said, smirking as Sam choked on the sip of water he had just taken.

“How the hell did Bobby manage to trap a Leviathan?” Sam asked incredulously. “What happened to them being freakishly difficult to take down?”

“Well they still are. Bobby said something about a witch knocking this one out for him. Didn’t go into too many details besides that,” Dean said. “Anyway, he’s working on trying to figure out how to gank these sons of bitches. Was about to give us a call, see if we wanted to swing by and help him out with it.”

“Where’s he holed up right now, anyway?” Sam asked as the waitress brought their food over.

Dean dug into his cheeseburger, answering around mouthfuls of food. “Still at Rufus’s old cabin in Whitefish, Montana. Figured we’d drive a couple more hours after this, get there sometime late tomorrow night.”

They didn’t stay long at the diner, scarfing down their food quickly so they could hit the road again. Sam raised an eyebrow as Dean grabbed a cup of coffee to-go before they left. “What? Give me a break, I haven’t slept in freakin’ forever.”

“Then let me drive, before you run us off the road.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Dean said, a bit too quickly.

“Look, I know you expect me to start going off the deep end every five minutes, but  you can trust me with your car,” Sam said with more bitterness than he had intended. “I’m not that fucked up anymore.”

Lucifer continued to smirk from his spot by the door.

“Sammy, that’s not what I-” Dean sighed in frustration and dug the car keys out of his pocket. He tossed them to his brother and said, “Fine. You want to drive so bad? Go right ahead,” before storming out to the Impala. It was completely the wrong way to react and he knew that, but it was easier to lash out at Sam than to try to admit that he still wasn’t sure if he could trust his brother to not go nuclear on him.

By the time Sam got out to the Impala a few minutes later Dean was sprawled out in the passenger’s seat, head resting against the window and trying his damndest to act like he was asleep. By the time they had reached the highway again, he actually was.

XXXXX

 

_It was there in his eyes, when he stood and tried to walk on his own. When he said that he would find a way to redeem himself. And Dean wondered how he missed it the first time because it was so, so obvious now._

_He locked eyes with Castiel, just for a split second. A split second that seemed to stretch on forever and Dean knew that the angel wasn’t expecting to make it out of there alive. But the last thing Cas did was apologize, was watch Dean so the hunter would be the last sight he saw, was hold the Leviathans at bay inside his own body so Dean had a chance to escape._

_And Dean stood on the shore of the reservoir, watching as Castiel’s Vessel was waded out into the water, frozen to the spot and unable to move as his only true friend disappeared below the surface…_

Dean jerked awake as Sam banged on the roof of the Impala. “Dude, what the hell?” he said, trying to get his heart rate back under control.

Sam tossed a room key to him, and it was only then that Dean realized they had stopped a motel.  “It’s almost 11 o’clock, Dean, and we’re both exhausted. We can crash for the night, get an early start to Bobby’s tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah,” Dean muttered, grabbing his duffel from the trunk and brushing past Sam into the motel room. Didn’t matter to him whether they stopped for the night or not; he’d be having nightmares no matter where he fell asleep.

Sam watched Dean walk into the room, taking a moment to try and reign in his frustration. He knew his brother wasn’t sleeping well, probably nightmares again, and he knew exactly what that was like. Didn’t make it any easier to deal with his brother, though, especially when Dean already barely trusted him. It was hard to talk to Dean about his issues when Sam had more than enough problems of his own.

Dean was in the bathroom when Sam finally entered the motel room and he flopped down onto the bed that his brother hadn’t already claimed, toeing off his shoes and closing his eyes. Dean may have been having nightmares, but Sam’s dreams weren’t any easier to deal with and he wasn’t looking forward to seeing what would happen when he faced down Gabriel once more.

XXXXX

Aziraphale stumbled downstairs, bleary-eyed and looking more than a little exhausted. “You should probably stop doing that, you know,” Crowley said as the angel joined him in the small kitchen, shoving a cup of tea in his general direction.

Aziraphale sank down in a chair near the table and took the proffered tea gratefully. “Yes, and then he’d end up dying, my dear,” he pointed out. “You know that.”

Crowley said nothing, simply returned to his own cup of tea and the newspaper he had been reading. He did, of course, know that what his angel was doing was vital to Gabriel’s continued existence but that didn’t mean he was happy about how Aziraphale was constantly using up his own Grace to sustain the Archangel’s.

“Have you found anything out about who brought him back?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. “One possibility, but the person’s dead now. Not going to be much help in answering questions anymore.” He glanced up at Aziraphale, rolling his eyes when he saw that the angel was already almost falling asleep in his tea. “You should be sleeping still.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Still have to check on Gabriel again, my dear,” he murmured unhappily, the very thought seeming to seep more energy from him. Truthfully, he wanted to do nothing more than to rest, give him Grace some time to recharge a bit more, but he had an Archangel to keep alive instead.

“You haven’t even-!” Crowley resisted the urge to sigh in frustration and settled for pointing out, “You’re going to kill yourself if you keep using all your Grace on him.” Unspoken was the quiet plea, _So stop doing this._

“Once his Grace stops continually depleting itself I won’t have to keep doing this,” Aziraphale said.

“Yeah? And when exactly is that going to happen?”

“I don’t know, _my dear_ ,” Aziraphale said, with just enough bite to the endearment to show how annoyed he was becoming. “There isn’t exactly a precedent for this, so I don’t know why he’s using up his Grace so quickly.”

“Maybe you should back off then, until we can figure out what’s going on,” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed. “I do that and Gabriel will _die_ , Crowley,” he said, his voice low and cold. “He is my brother; I can’t let that happen.”

“And I can’t let you destroy yourself like this!” Crowley yelled. “For Go- for Somebody’s sake, Zira, have you looked into a mirror recently? You are a step away from Death’s door!”

Aziraphale felt his anger and frustration slowly drain out of him and he smiled faintly at the demon. “I am the only thing keeping Gabriel alive right now,” he said gently. “And I know you want to protect me, my dear-” His eyes flickered to the protection sigils etched into the walls of the bookstore, invisible to humans but clear as day to him. “-but you cannot control me.”

“Then what do you want me to do, Angel?” Crowley demanded. “Sit back and do nothing to stop you from withering away?”

“Find someone to help,” Aziraphale said firmly. “I know you’ve got powerful connections now, at the very least. See if you can find a way to help Gabriel preserve his Grace so I don’t need to keep doing this.”

Crowley could have laughed. He was _King of Hell_ ; none of his connections were more powerful than him. He opened his mouth to make another snarky comment when he suddenly thought of something, the memory of a deal he had once made with an old hunter. He licked his lips as he remembered the taste of Bobby Singer signing his soul over to him. Even now he still retained a link with the soul, an echo of the contract he had once held, and he used it to get a fix on the hunter’s location. If anyone had access to information that could help, it would be Singer.

“Crowley?”

The voice of his angel snapped Crowley out of his memories and he smiled lazily at Aziraphale. The taste of Bobby Singer’s soul still lingered in his mouth and he pulled Aziraphale in. Kissing the angel was addictive, little contentedly sighs and Grace sparking and burning his forked tongue when he flicked it against Aziraphale’s lips. The demon could never get enough of it, could never get enough of Aziraphale.

“There is one person who may be able to help us,” Crowley said as he finally pulled away, secretly loving his angel’s flushed face and kiss-swollen lips.

The sudden shift back to their original conversation helped focus Aziraphale again and, though he hated that he had to do so, he asked, “A demon?”

Crowley shook his head. “Human. A hunter, actually. Had a deal with him once.”

“Had?” Aziraphale asked casually. It wasn’t often that Crowley talked about his work as a Crossroads Demon and the angel wasn’t going to let a chance like this slip away.

“The deal was made during the Apocalypse in exchange for information,” Crowley said, his words chosen carefully. “There was a clause that allowed him to get it back, but you know how fine print can be. A couple of his friends went to burn my bones, so I returned it to him.”

“Burn your bones?” Aziraphale asked, confused. It was easier to focus on that rather than thinking about Crowley dealing in human souls; knowing vaguely what the demon did these days was one thing, but Aziraphale hadn’t really been prepared to hear the details.

“Burn the human bones of a demon and the demon dies,” Crowley explained.

Aziraphale smiled wryly. “But you were never a human, my dear.”

“And that is a closely-guarded secret that these hunters are unaware of,” Crowley said with a smirk.

“But are you sure that they’ll be able to help, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “If they’re only hunters…”

Crowley couldn’t help but laughing at that. “Only hunters? Angel, Bobby Singer has a library that could rival the one at Alexandria, or yours even. If he’ll listen to me, that is.”

Aziraphale wanted to ask Crowley what he meant by that last sentence, to demand answers about any number of the cryptic things he had said over the course of their conversation, but before he could say anything Crowley had disappeared with a small wave.

The angel sighed irritably and drank the last of his now-lukewarm tea before shuffling back up the stairs to check on Gabriel.

XXXXX

_The field was dark, the only source of light the stars overhead and small, flickering bonfire. “Gabriel, what the-” Sam started to ask._

_“Shut up and sit down, Sasquatch,” Gabriel interrupted as he speared a marshmallow onto a skewer and held it over the fire._

_“Are you making s’mores?” Sam asked, amused, as he sat down next to Gabriel. Part of Sam was waiting for him to mention what had happened in the last dream, but if Gabriel didn’t bring it up then he certainly wasn’t going to. “Can’t you just snap some up for you instead of going through all the trouble of making them?”_

_“All the trouble? Sammy, a s’more isn’t a s’more unless you make it yourself,” Gabriel said teasingly._

_“Alright, fine,” Sam relented with a grin. “Pass me a marshmallow, will you?”_

_He saw Gabriel’s smirk but wasn’t quick enough to react to it before a marshmallow was lobed at him. It bounced off his forehead, rolling to stop just at the edge of the bonfire. Sam rolled his eyes as Gabriel began to snicker and picked up the marshmallow, brushing dirt off of it and stabbing it on a skewer of his own._

_“How old are you supposed to be again?” he asked as he began to roast the marshmallow._

_“Old enough to know that life’s more fun than you think it is,” Gabriel replied. Sam watched with barely concealed amusement as the former Trickster suddenly realized that his marshmallow had caught on fire and tried to blow the flame out, only to whine in disappointment when he realized that it was already burnt to a crisp._

_“Can’t you just snap it back to perfection?” Sam asked, slowing turning his own marshmallow over in the fire so it toasted evenly._

_“It’s not the same!”_

_And damnit, for an Archangel Gabriel was way too good at whining. “Here,” Sam said and grabbed Gabriel’s burnt marshmallow, exchanging it with his own perfectly toasted one before he really realized what he was doing._

_Gabriel was speechless for a long moment and Sam wondered if he, yet again, overstepped some unspoken boundary. “Thanks Sammy,” Gabriel finally said quietly._

_Sam shrugged. “Dean never figured out how to roast them correctly either, so I’m used to eating his burned ones anyway,” he said, although that still didn’t explain why he wanted to help the angel, to make him happy._

_Luckily Gabriel didn’t question it and they both ate their s’mores in silence. Or it would have been silence if Gabriel didn’t decide to make vaguely pornographic noises while eating his. Sam flushed at the sound, remembering all too clearly what had occurred at their last meeting, and tried to ignore him in favor of roasting his second marshmallow._

_Sam finished putting together his second s’more and flopped down on his back, smiling at the sight of the stars overhead. Sam had always loved the night sky, loved the mystery of what was up there, and he found himself beginning to relax._

_“Do you know the constellations?” Gabriel asked._

_Sam shook his head. “I’ve read about them, but it’s hard to really try to find them when you spend most nights digging up graves,” he said between bites of his s’more._

_“I could show them to you,” Gabriel offered as he pulled his second marshmallow out of the fire and began to put together his own s’more. “If you want.”_

_“Yeah,” Sam said with a smile. “I’d like that.”_

_Gabriel lay down next to him and began pointing out the constellations overhead, describing the specific stars that make them up and explaining how to find them. He stopped only to make more s’mores, half of which got passed to Sam who was surprised that they had been made exactly the way he loved them. Sam ignored the fluttering in his chest, putting it down to nerves or stress, and tried to resist the urge to move closer to the Archangel next to him._

_And sometime between Gabriel’s explanation of how 51 Pegasi was the first star found that contained an extrasolar planet and the close-up view of the Andromeda Galaxy, courtesy of Gabriel’s Archangel powers, Sam dozed off._

XXXXX

Dean glanced over at his brother and tried not to feel jealous at how well-rested he looked. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that he had gotten a decent night’s sleep while Dean tossed and turned on the lumpy motel mattress all night, after all. And it was a lot easier to squash his bitterness at Sam’s seemingly peaceful dreams when Dean remembered that although he was the only Winchester having nightmares now, Sam literally had to deal with his own demons during the day.

A glance over at his brother only served to prove his point. Sam was staring into the rearview mirror, tense and eyes fixed on something- or someone- in the backseat that Dean couldn’t see.

“We should reach Bobby’s place in a couple of hours,” Dean said loudly.

The words had the desired effect and Sam focused his attention back on his brother as he said, “Good. We need to start figuring out how to take care of these damned Leviathans.”

Dean couldn’t agree more and he pushed his foot down just a little bit harder. Maybe they could make it there in three hours instead of four.

He made it in just over two and a half, and the bitching from Sammy was so worth it.

“Good to see you, boys,” Bobby said. “Wasn’t expecting you for a couple more hours, though.”

Dean could feel Sam glaring at him as he grinned and said, “Yeah, well. Just managed to make some good time getting here I suppose.”

“Right.” Bobby knew exactly what had happened (given Dean’s shit-eating grin and Sam’s bitchface it was hard to miss) but he wisely decided not to comment on it. “Well come on then. I have a Leviathan in my basement and only another day or so before the spell wears off on it.”

“Yeah, what’s all that about, Bobby?” Dean asked as they followed the older hunter into the cabin. “Since when are you working with witches?”

“Didn’t exactly work with them. They were a married couple that I was tryin’ to stop from killing everyone. They were too powerful to kill, but they worked out their differences. Except the wife wasn’t quite so forgiving and planted a cursed coin on me. The husband showed up to get rid of it just as this Leviathan showed up to get rid of me. He cursed him for me, said the spell will only last a couple of days,” Bobby explained as he led the boys down into the basement of the cabin.

The Leviathan was chained to chair in the middle of a Devil’s Trap, a smug smirk on his face that Dean wanted to wipe off with his fist just on principle alone. “Well, look who finally returned for round two,” the Leviathan said with a sneer. “And you’ve brought the Winchesters too. We’ve been looking for you boys.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“To kill you, why else?” the Leviathan said with a laugh. “Have to give you two credit though, you’re a lot harder to track down than we thought. That’s why I was sent after Bobby here instead, to see if I could figure out what your new aliases were.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “How did you know we got new aliases?” Sam asked cautiously, because it was true that they had picked up new credit cards and IDs not long after the Leviathans were unleashed, simply because too many of their old ones had been lost or used up.

“None of the ones we knew about were showing up on any of our detection programs,” the Leviathan said.

“And how the hell did you find out about any of our aliases in the first place?” Dean asked.

“From your trench-coated friend, obviously.”

Dean flinched, shifting restlessly as his mind launched into overdrive. If they learned it from Castiel, did that mean that the angel was still-?

The Leviathan continued talking, interrupting Dean’s thoughts. “When we were all nestled in at Camp Cas, we kind of got the full download. That's just how we do it.”

Dean could feel Sam and Bobby watching him, cautiously waiting to see what his reaction would be, and Dean tried to curb his anger even as he continued to pace and shift with too many pent-up emotions. The Leviathan never said anything about Castiel being dead _now_. Maybe the angel was still alive, like Dean had wanted to hope.

Dean wanted these sons of bitches dead more than he had wanted anything else in long time and he jerked his head towards the stairs, indicating to Sam and Bobby to follow him up. “Figured out a way to kill them yet, Bobby?” he asked as he poured himself a drink.

“Nothing yet,” Bobby said, exchanging a worried glance with Sam. “They seem pretty damn near indestructible to me. The one down there mentioned you guys dropping a car on one of his buddies. Said he’s still walking around.”

Sam swore under his breath and braced himself for whatever stupid plan Dean was about to suggest.

“I’m going back to the reservoir.”

Well at least his brother never did things by halves. Sam almost wasn’t surprised by this turn of events but that didn’t stop him from blurting out, “You’re going to do _what_?”

“Go back to the reservoir, Sammy,” Dean repeated as he downed his drink.

And Sam knew that he should be protesting this, but he was struck by just how much of a fucking idiot his brother could be and had no idea what he could even say in response to that.

Bobby, on the other hand, had more than enough to say for the both of them. “Have you lost your friggin’ mind, you idjit? You have no idea what’s out at that damned reservoir and want to go back there anyway?”

“Bobby, there’s probably nothing out there,” Dean said, trying to sound casual and falling just a bit short of the mark. “I just want to take a look, make sure nothing’s going on.”

“You can’t know that for sure, Dean,” Sam pointed out angrily, finally finding his voice again. “For all you know the boss Leviathan is still hiding out there…” His voice trailed off, eyes widening in shock as he glanced over at Bobby. The older hunter had a look of understanding on his face and Sam knew he had just reached a similar conclusion.

Dean, it seemed, must have picked up on what they were thinking because he quickly said, “This isn’t about that, Sam!”

“Really? So this isn’t about Cas then?”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean said. His voice was quiet, almost lethally so, but his hands shook as he poured himself another drink.

“You heard the Leviathans, Dean,” Bobby said. “Castiel is dead. The most you’re going to find out there is his Vessel housing something else.”

Dean slammed his glass, whirling around to face the two other men. “You think I don’t know that? Do you think I’ve somehow forgotten everything that happened to Cas and how I treated him like shit? ‘Cause I got news for you, Bobby, I haven’t forgotten any of it. Believe me, I haven’t. But ever since Osiris I can’t stop thinking that maybe…” Dean sighed, rubbing at his eyes as the fight slowly left him. “I have to see for myself, and whether you two like it or not I’m going back to that damned reservoir.”

The room was silent for a long moment. Dean was steadfastly looking anywhere but at his brother and Bobby, gritting his teeth in frustration and waiting for one of them to remind him yet again that he was an idiot.

“I still think you’re crazy, but I’m in,” Sam said. Dean looked at him in surprise, having honestly not expected that reaction, and Sam quite hold back a grin. “What, did you really think I’d let you go back there by yourself?”

“Do you idjits even know how to kill one of these things yet?” Bobby asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a guilty look and remained silent on the matter.

The older hunter shook his head. “You two get some sleep. I’m gonna need all the help I can get working on the one in the basement if you’re actually set on going back out there.”

XXXXX

_Sam watched as a bolt of lightning forked through the sky, lighting up the same field for a brief moment as it struck the Earth. The sound of rain falling around him, broken only by occasional rumbles of thunder, was soothing in a sort of strange way. He wasn’t used to simply watching a storm roll by and certainly wasn’t used to enjoying being out in the middle of one, although he supposed it helped that he wasn’t actually get soaked to the bone this time._

_He tracked a rain drop as it slid down the invisible barrier that separated him from the elements. The barrier’s creator, a certain Archangel that was a now-constant presence in his dreams, was lounging on the ground next to him, head resting on his arms and staring up into cloudy sky._

_Another flash of lightning threw the features of Gabriel’s face into stark relief, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance. As if he could sense Sam staring at him, the Archangel suddenly turned and flashed the hunter a wide grin. “Been awhile since I enjoyed a storm like this,” he said casually. “Most of the time I’m too busy working to pay attention to one.”_

_“What, do storms make a good cover for when you pull your Tricks?” Sam asked teasingly._

_Gabriel smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They make a better cover for the work of pagan gods,” he said quietly._

_Sam’s own smile faded slowly at the reminder of what Gabriel had been for so long. He had forgotten about the Archangel’s past, of what he had become since he fled Heaven. Was that why this Gabriel, the Gabriel he had dreamed up, hadn’t pulled any Tricks on him yet? Because Sam had forgotten what the_ Trickster _was capable of? “Is it true then?” he asked. “What the other gods were saying at the motel. Did you really pretend to be Loki?”_

_Gabriel nodded, looking back up at the thunderstorm raging overhead. “I did. And I did a damn fine good job at it too.”_

_“How true are the myths, then?” Sam asked._

_“They’re fairly accurate,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “Some things have gotten lost in translation but for the most part they’re true.”_

_“Did you really give birth to an eight-legged horse then?”_

_Gabriel laughed. “You would focus on that one, wouldn’t you? Yes, I did. Do you want to hear how it really happened?”_

_Sam nodded eagerly, never one to turn down the chance to learn something new. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t opposed to how Gabriel moved closer, just starting to invade his personal space as he began to tell the story in great detail, their legs just barely brushing against each other._

XXXXX

Dean bit back a sigh of frustration as yet another attempt to hurt the Leviathan had failed. Nothing they had tried so far had done anything to it, and the damned thing just kept grinning and making snide comments as they worked. “Bobby, what haven’t you tried yet?” he asked.

“Not a hell of a lot,” the older hunter said. “Tried salt, holy water, silver, any number of herbs- hell, even just shooting it. None of it’s done a damn thing.”

“That’s because you can’t kill us,” the Leviathan said in an annoying sing-song voice that grated on Dean’s nerves. His fingers twitched on the demon-killing knife he was holding. The blade hadn’t done anything to the Leviathan but using it to carve the fucker to pieces might make Dean feel better, at least.

“We’re going to keep hunting you down, and when we finally catch up to you we’re going to tear you apart,” the Leviathan continued.

Dean slowly set down the demon-killing knife and picked up a machete, feeling Sam and Bobby watching his movements carefully.

“Just like we did to your little angel buddy.”

Dean whirled around and sliced down, the machete cutting cleanly through the Leviathan’s neck with ease. His head slid slowly down, hitting the ground with a dull thud that echoed in the silent basement.

“Huh. Didn’t expect that to work,” Dean said casually as he wiped the machete on scrap of cloth and set it back down.

“If they can survive having cars dropped on them then it might not keep it down for long,” Bobby warned.

“It’ll give us enough time to get away, though,” Dean pointed out.

Bobby sighed. “And I’ll keep trying to find something that’ll keep them down for good. I still think you two are idjits for wanting to go back out to that damned reservoir, though.”

“Yeah well, we don’t really have much choice,” Dean muttered. Not with Cas out there, they didn’t. Not as long as he had a chance to save his angel.

Sam and Dean left not long after that; it would take them almost a full day to get back to the reservoir, and Dean was anxious to put as many miles behind them as they could.

Sam stayed silent as they drove, for which Dean was extremely grateful. He didn’t know if he had the energy to put up with his brother bitching about what they were doing, not when he was already exhausted from the nightmares that plagued his sleep and when he was already worrying enough for both of them. He didn’t know what to expect once they got there, but that didn’t stop him from imagining finding Cas on the verge of death, surrounded by Leviathans and being unable to get to him in time.

He pushed down harder on the accelerator. They needed to get to that reservoir as soon as possible.

Dean drove through lunch and reluctantly stopped for a late dinner at a small diner on the side of the highway. “Any updates from Bobby?” he asked Sam, who was checking his phone for messages.

“Nothing yet,” Sam said. “But Dean, he might not find anything at all. We might end up going into this completely blind.”

“We know beheading them will stop them, at least for a little while.”

“We know that it stopped _one_ Leviathan for an unknown period of time,” Sam corrected. “If we find their boss out at that reservoir we don’t know what he’s going to be capable of.”

“So what do you want to do? Just turn around now, go back to Bobby’s?”

“I want you to be honest about why we’re going out there!” Sam said. “What exactly are you expecting to find out there? You owe me that much of an explanation, Dean!”

“I told you, I just want to see if there’s anything out there.”

“Like Cas?”

“Damnit Sam, I don’t know!” Dean snapped, his patience finally wearing thin. “You want the truth? The truth is I don’t think he’s dead. After everything he’s bounced back from, I don’t think he let this get the best of him.”

“And you think that he’s just going to be waiting out there for you?” Sam asked skeptically.

“I don’t know what’s going to be out there, but I sure as hell won’t just sit back and not find out,” Dean hissed as the waitress brought their food over, effectively ending the conversation for the time being.

They continued their drive in without speaking, Dean’s music blasting through the radio the only thing stopping their harsh silence from filling the Impala. They drove through the night, taking turns at the wheel while the other one dozed in the passenger’s seat. Dean slept fitfully, his own fears for what they would find preventing him from fully falling asleep. Sam dreamt of amber eyes and golden wings, waking to the feeling that he was missing something monumentally important.

They pulled into a small hotel in the town over from the reservoir, Dean grabbing their bags as Sam stumbled off to book them a room so they could catch a couple hours of sleep before doing anything else. By the time they got into the room they were exhausted enough to crash on the beds, barely remembering to set up their protections and not bothering to even kick off their shoes.

XXXXX

_Dean stared out at the still surface of the reservoir, waiting for some sign that he hadn’t travelled all this way for nothing. “Cas… If you can hear me, I could really use some sort of sign that you’re out there,” he called._

_“Dean.”_

_Dean turned around but his joy was short-lived. Castiel stood in front of him, yes, but his eyes were lifeless, his skin showing signs of bloating and decay. He was soaking wet and with every word he spoke water poured out of his mouth._

_“You did this to me,” he said. “You gave up on me. You left me to them.”_

_“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean said, his voice breaking. “Damnit Cas, I’m so sorry.”_

_But Castiel’s face was emotionless as he stared at hunter, no spark of recognition to indicate he had even heard his words as he pushed past Dean and walked slowly back down into the reservoir._

XXXXX

_Sam stared around in disbelief. “Gabriel, what the hell…?”_

_“Like it, Sammy? All the wonders of a coral reef without needed to get your feet wet,” the Archangel said proudly, reaching out to scare a school of clownfish as they swam past through the air._

_“You’re crazy.” A parrotfish swam past Sam’s head, as if it didn’t see anything wrong with swimming through the open sky above the field instead of in its natural aquatic habitat. This was the last thing he needed right now, a complete mental breakdown before facing whatever was out at the reservoir. “I’m crazy. I’m dreaming of you creating fish that swim through the sky.”_

_“Or you’re not actually crazy and I really did create fish that are swimming through the sky,” Gabriel pointed out. “Seriously kiddo, what is it going to take to get you to believe that I’m real?”_

_“Dean seeing you,” Sam said. “He’s a pretty good judge of when I’m hallucinating things. Well, when he’s not pining over your brother.”_

_“Who, Castiel?” Gabriel asked. “I thought you said he was dead.”_

_“He is,” Sam said. “Except Dean refuses to believe he is. We’re going to head out and… I don’t even know. Look for him, I guess. Not sure how much help Dean’s expecting me to be, though.”_

_“What’re you talking about?”_

_“How is the crazy person supposed to tell when something’s real?” Sam asked, finally giving voice to one of his own fears. “How can I help my brother on a hunt if I don’t know if what I’m seeing is actually there?”_

_For once Gabriel was silent, offering no answer or consolation, and the two stood in silence, watching the fish swim past._

XXXXX

“You sure you’re up to this, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean cut the engine to the Impala. “You look like shit.”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean snapped. In all honesty he did feel like shit, and the couple of hours of nightmare-filled sleep he had managed to get didn’t do nearly enough to help with his exhaustion, but there was no way he was going to admit to that. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

The reservoir looked the same as it had the last time they were there, it’s still surface broken only by ripples caused by the wind. Dean didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it was unnerving to see it so perfect when this had been where all their troubles started.

“So what do we do now?” Sam asked. “We can’t exactly go diving in there to look for him.”

Dean didn’t say anything, mostly because he didn’t know what they were supposed to do now. None of his half-formed plans had accounted for the possibility that nothing would happen, that neither Cas nor any Leviathans would show up. Now that it was just him and Sam standing on the shoreline he didn’t know what was supposed to happen next.

“We could head back into the town, see if anyone matching Cas’s description has been seen since-”

“Did you hear that?” Dean interrupted. There it was again, a low, grinding rumble as if something was shifting deep underground. Tiny waves formed across the surface of the water as the ground shook and the water began to swirl in the center of the reservoir as something emerged.

“Holy shit,” Sam said quietly, but Dean barely heard him over the pounding of his heart. There was no mistaking who was slowly making his way towards them.

Castiel stopped at the edge of the reservoir, standing ankle deep in the water. Except it wasn’t Castiel at all, the painfully familiar maniacal grin on his face belying the Leviathan that was inhabiting the Vessel. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting this,” the Leviathan said with a slight chuckle. “The idiot Winchesters, back for round two. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”

Dean and Sam were thrown backwards and pinned against the trees. “You son of a bitch,” Dean growled before he found his air cut off, as if an invisible hand was pressed against his throat.

“What, were you expecting little Cassie to be waiting for you?” the Leviathan said mockingly. “Waiting like the good little dog he always was? I told you, he’s _dead_.” Dean choked in the barest of breaths, his vision starting to waver as his oxygen supply was cut off. “And now you’re going to die as well.”

The Leviathan raised his arm to finish the deed, but nothing happened. The pressure holding Dean back suddenly dissipated and he slumped down to the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath.

“What? No!” the Leviathan snarled. It twitched, Castiel’s body spasming, and Sam and Dean watched warily, unsure of what was going on.

It stilled for a moment before lurching forward, just barely catching itself before hitting the ground. The voice that spoke wasn’t the mocking, laughing voice of the Leviathan, but a different, familiar deep tone. “Dean. Run.”

“Cas?” Dean breathed, struggling to his feet and taking a few staggering feet forward. “Cas, is it you?”

“Dean, you have to run!” Castiel ordered. He was starting to shake again, his body tense and his eyes filled with pain. “They are stronger than me; I can’t hold them back much longer. You must get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Dean yelled. “Not again.”

“If you don’t leave, the Leviathans will kill you,” Castiel gasped, clenching his hands into fists as another tremor shook through his body. “Please, Dean. I am trying to redeem myself, but you must leave. Now!”

Sam grabbed onto Dean’s arm, tugging him further away from the shore even as Dean struggled against him. “Cas, I’m sorry, I-”

But Castiel was already too far gone, his body spasming as the Leviathans took control again, and when he looked up at the Winchesters it was with a crazed grin and fury burning in his eyes.

Dean allowed himself to be forced away from the reservoir and manhandled into the passenger’s seat after Sam dug the keys out of the jacket of his coat. He barely registered the squeal of the tires as Sam raced out onto the road, didn’t even think of yelling at his brother for the treatment of the car. He felt like someone had titled his world on its axis, like he didn’t know which way was up anymore.

Although he had been desperately hoping that Castiel was still alive he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now that he had the confirmation he had wanted. They had no idea how to stop the Leviathans, no idea how to force them to leave Castiel’s Vessel, and until they figured that out they had to leave the angel behind. Leave him with those monsters, a prisoner in his own Vessel, and Dean felt sick at the thought of having abandoned his friend in his time of need yet again.

“We have to go back,” he said. His voice sounded distant and strange to his own ears.

Sam shook his head. “No way. We’ll stop in a couple of hours but we are not going back to that reservoir.”

“Sam, that’s Cas back there!” Dean yelled. “We have to go back and-”

“Yeah? And what, Dean?” Sam interrupted. “We don’t know how to stop the Leviathans. If we go back there now we’ll be killed. After Castiel gave us a chance to escape, you want to go back and throw that chance away?”

“I can’t abandon him again,” Dean said. “I let him down once; I won’t do it again.”

“Who said anything about abandoning him?” Sam said. “Look, once we figure out how to get rid of the Leviathans we’ll go back and save Cas, but we won’t be any help to him if we die first.”

Dean stayed silent, staring out the window at the towns racing past. He knew his brother was right, knew that they couldn’t go back until they figured out how to stop the Leviathans, but _Castiel was alive_ and that changed everything. He was alive and Dean was driving in the opposite direction, leaving him behind.

Sam didn’t stop driving until late that night, until they were well over twelve hours away from the reservoir. Apart from their initial conversation neither brother spoke until they reached the rundown motel parking lot that Sam pulled into.

“You go get us a room. I’ll call Bobby, update him on… on what’s going on,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Sam said but he hesitated, studying his brother for a moment before finally slipping out of the car and heading into the motel office.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Bobby’s number, bracing himself for the conversation that he was about to have.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey Bobby, it’s, uh. It’s me,” Dean said.

_“Do you know what time it is, you idjit? What the hell happened that you couldn’t pick up the phone and give me a call before?”_

Dean swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before saying, “Cas is alive, Bobby.”

There was silence for a moment before the sound of glass clinking and a liquid being poured. “ _Where is he now?”_

“Still back at the reservoir,” Dean said quietly. “He’s… The boss Leviathan is possessing his Vessel and smothering his powers, keeping him trapped in there. The boss showed up when we got there. Tried to kill us, and probably would have except Cas managed to take control for long enough for us to get away.”

_“You sure it was him?”_

“Couldn’t have been anyone else,” Dean said because he knew Castiel, knew how the angel talked and his slight mannerisms, and he _knew_ that it had been Castiel that he had talked to. “Please tell me you found some way to stop these sons of bitches, Bobby, because I cannot just leave him there with them.”

_“Found something that will hurt one, at least for a bit, and there’s some lore that says that an Archangel could banish them back to Purgatory, but that’s it. Sorry.”_

“Great,” Dean muttered. Killing the boss Leviathan wasn’t an option, not if with Castiel still in there. And the lore was just as useless, considering two of the Archangels were dead and the other two were locked away in Hell. “Keep looking. Let us know if you find anything else.”

Dean hung up just as Sam returned with the keys to their room. “What did he have to say?” he asked as he started to grab their things from the trunk.

“Not much,” Dean said, grabbing his own bags. “Found a couple of things that might be able to stop the Leviathans, but none of them are options anymore. Said he’d keep looking.”

Sam nodded and tossed his brother the keys. “It wouldn’t hurt if we did some research of our own. I think we still have some of Bobby’s books in one of the duffels, and there’s always the laptop.”

“I call the laptop!” Dean yelled from the motel room.

“Jerk!”

“Bitch!” Dean was glad his brother had suggested they start researching; he had no desire to spend another sleepless night being plagued by nightmares.

XXXXX

Bobby stared at the mug in his hand, blearily wondering when the hell he had finished his coffee. He had no idea how long he had been at the books, searching for any scrap of information they could use against the damned Leviathans, but it was long enough for the words to start to blur together on the page. With a sigh he stood up, wincing as his tired joints popped, and shuffled towards the kitchen.

The coffee pot was empty as well, though Bobby had no idea when he had finished that off either, so with another sigh he started brewing a new pot.

“You sure that’ll be strong enough to keep you up?”

Bobby whirled around to face the intruder, murder in his eyes as he stared at the demon there. “How the hell did you get in here?” he asked, his hand inching towards the flask of holy water that was lying on the counter.

“I have my ways,” Crowley said smoothly. Sometimes it paid to be a fallen angel instead of a human-turned-demon; it made it easier to move past some of the hunter’s typical protections. “And is that really necessary?” he asked, flicking the flask out of Bobby’s reach. “I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Bobby asked warily. After everything the demon had caused in the past year he was not inclined to just trust him as he might once have.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, I need your help,” Crowley said. “See, I have a little problem on my hands that I don’t know how to take care of and a friend of mine is killing himself trying to fix it. So I need you to help me figure out something to do.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t-” Crowley snapped his fingers and Bobby doubled over in unbelievable pain. “-I’ll rip your spleen out of your body.”

The pain faded almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving Bobby gasping for breath and glaring up at the demon. “What would I be able to find out that the King of Hell can’t?”

“To be honest, I don’t think you’ll be able to find anything, but like I said I’m here for a friend,” Crowley said. “So are you in, or will I have to ruin the lovely linoleum in your kitchen?”

“Don’t really have much choice, do I?” Bobby muttered. “What are you dealing with?”

“An old friend of ours is back from the dead,” Crowley said.

Anybody that could be considered a friend of the demon’s was not a friend of Bobby’s, and although he almost didn’t want to know the answer the hunter asked, “Who?”

Crowley smirked. “Gabriel.”

It took several moments for Bobby to fully process what Crowley said and when he did he couldn’t believe it. “You’re lying. How the hell would Gabriel be back?”

“Honestly? No idea,” Crowley said. “He just appeared on my doorstep a couple of weeks back, unconscious. Hasn’t woken up and my friend is killing himself trying to keep the stupid feathered idiot alive. So I need you to find out how to restore an angel’s Grace.”

“Wait, so Gabriel is really alive again,” Bobby said slowly, an idea slowly starting to form in his head. One of the ways to stop the Leviathans was to have an Archangel banish them- and now they had an Archangel.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Crowley snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” Bobby said as he reached for the phone to call Sam and Dean. “But I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

Crowley smirked. “Never thought you would.”

 


	4. Part III

_The field was covered by a thick layer of snow, crisp and untouched, flakes swirling in the air around him. But Sam barely noticed anything. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, worry for his brother and the knowledge that he needed to continue his research conflicting with his own desire to see his dream-Gabriel again and forget about what had happened at the reservoir for a couple of hours._

_“Woah, kiddo, what’s wrong? You haven’t been this worked up since the first time you popped in here.”_

_Sam bit back the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. God, what wasn’t wrong at this point? “Gabriel…” he said brokenly, not even sure what he was asking for anymore._

_There was a quiet snap and Gabriel passed him a mug of something hot as he ushered Sam over to a bench that had suddenly appeared as well. He pushed the human down onto it and sat next to him. “Is it my brother again?” he asked softly._

_“No,” Sam said, tightening his grip on the mug. “Lucifer has… I haven’t been seeing him as much anymore.” Which was true; it seemed like the longer Sam dreamed of Gabriel, the less he saw of Lucifer. Maybe his mind could only handle dealing with one Archangel hallucination at a time._

_“Do you want to talk about it, then?” Gabriel asked._

_Sam shook his head. “I just want to forget about it, not be psychoanalyzed by my own hallucination,” he said with more bite than he had intended._

_Gabriel was silent for a long moment and Sam shifted uneasily. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up the hallucination thing again; Gabriel always did seem to get upset whenever he mentioned it. But how could he hurt the Archangel’s feelings when he wasn’t even actually real?_

_Sam didn’t notice that he had started shivering until he felt a jacket being draped over his shoulders and he immediately pulled it closer around him. It was too small for his frame and a glance at Gabriel confirmed that he had given him his own jacket._

_“What? It was easier than creating a new one,” Gabriel said defensively. “So shut up and drink your hot chocolate.”_

_Sam ducked his head to hide his grin but did as he was told and took a cautious sip of his hot chocolate. The drink was rich and creamy, a far cry from the cheap instant stuff he was used to, and Sam let out a sigh of appreciation. “Does everything have to be the absolute best for you?” he asked, though he wasn’t exactly complaining about it._

_There was another quiet snap. “Why use your energy to create something that’s only mediocre?” Gabriel countered. He shifted on the bench next to Sam, turning so he was leaning against the hunter’s side as he took a sip of his own cup of hot chocolate._

_Without thinking Sam moved his arm so it was draped across Gabriel’s chest, wrapping around him just enough to hold the Archangel close. For a moment Sam panicked, thinking that maybe he had overstepped a boundary, but then Gabriel leaned his head back and grinned, grabbing Sam’s arm and holding it in place._

_Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and took another sip of his hot chocolate. For the time being, he wasn’t going to worry about anything. Not his brother, not Castiel, not the Leviathans._

_And certainly not the fact that he was falling in love with a dead Archangel._

XXXXX

Dean stared blearily at the laptop screen. He was sure that he had read this paragraph already but he had no idea what it had been about. With a sigh he closed the laptop and set it aside, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. God, he was so fucking tired. Sam had fallen asleep a few hours earlier, slumped over the books he had been reading, but Dean had been fighting his exhaustion. He knew that sleep meant nightmares of Castiel and he couldn’t deal with them, not now, not when he actually could lose Castiel-

He barely registered his eyes slipping shut, his breathing slowly evening out.

_He couldn’t lose Cas, couldn’t leave him behind again. He tried to tell himself that the thing grinning at him wasn’t his angel but Castiel was still in there somewhere and Dean would be damned if he ran away again._

_“Oh, you should hear him screaming at me right now,” the Leviathan said with a laugh. “All those threats to smite me, to rip me apart from the inside out if I hurt you. But I’m going to hurt you anyway and he’s not going to be able to do anything about it, is he?”_

_The Leviathan flicked his hand, once again pinning Dean against a tree by the shore of the reservoir. “But do you know what the best part it?” the Leviathan continued as he stepped closer to Dean. “How much this is going to hurt him. Seeing his precious little Righteous Man ripped apart by his own hand. Watching the life drain out of the man he lov-”_

Dean’s cellphone rang, startling him out of the dream, and he fumbled with it for a moment before finally getting it open. “’ello?” he rasped, still not completely awake. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam shift and lift his head, blinking wearily as he too slowly woke up.

_“Dean, it’s Bobby. How far out are you?”_

Dean groaned and tried to remember how long they had driven the day before. He hadn’t been paying much attention to anything at the time, but considering how late it had been when they arrived at the motel… “Dunno. Eight, maybe nine hours?” he guessed. “Why?”

_“You and your brother need to get your asses back here ASAP. I might have found something to stop the Leviathans.”_

That woke Dean up right away and he stumbled out of bed, quickly throwing things into his duffle and motioning for Sam to do the same. “What is it?” he asked. “What did you find?”

Dean could hear someone else talking faintly in the background before Bobby said, _“Just get over here. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”_

“Bobby, what the-?” Dean swore under his breath when he realized that the older hunter had hung up on him. “Alright, get a move on, Sam. We’re out of here in five.”

“What did Bobby want?” Sam asked as he grabbed the laptop and books and shoved them into one of the bags.

“Said he found something to stop the Leviathans,” Dean said as he finished packing his duffle and swiped the keys off the table. “I’m going to check us out. Meet me out at the car.”

It only took a few minutes for them to hit the road, both brothers silent as the Impala pealed out of the parking lot. Dean’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel and he forced himself to focus on the road in front of him. He couldn’t let himself start thinking about what Bobby had found, afraid that their plans would fall through and he’d have to abandon Castiel _again_.

But he didn’t want to think about Cas, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about the dream he had had. Dean knew what the Leviathan had been about to say and Jesus Christ, how fucked up did he have to be to dream of having a freakin’ Angel of the Lord love him? _Him,_ of all people!

Dean jammed a cassette tape in and hit the gas just a little bit harder. There were some things about himself that he wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and his _hypothetical_ feelings for a certain blue-eyed angel were one of them.

Sam kept a close eye on his brother as he drove, watching for any sign that Dean was going to have a meltdown. He could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, and he could only imagine how Dean was feeling. The anxiety and fear at the possibility that Bobby’s plan didn’t work… There was nothing in Sam’s life that could compare, not even his dreams of Gabriel. Castiel at least was really alive; the Archangel wasn’t.

That thought burned at his heart and Sam forced himself not to think of honey-colored wings and knowing smirks. He had to get over this; nothing would ever come out of it.

Both brothers were relieved to finally arrive at the cabin late that afternoon. They had driven in silence without stopping for just under eight hours and they were exhausted, their feet dragging slightly as they grabbed their duffle bags and shuffled towards the house.

“Why is it that you never have anything worth drinking around?”

Sam and Dean exchanged stunned looks; they both recognized that voice. Dean had a gun in hand and Sam had just grabbed the demon-killing knife when the door to the cabin flung open and Bobby stormed out.

“Bobby, what the hell’s going on?” Dean demanded. “Tell me you didn’t make another deal with that son of a bitch!”

Bobby glared him. “Put the weapons down, you idjits. He’s the one who came to me.”

“What does he want?” Sam asked warily.

“If you put the toys away, I’ll tell you myself,” Crowley said from his position in the doorway of the cabin. “So what do you say, boys? Want to have a little chat?”

“Yeah? Like you had a little chat with Castiel?” Dean snapped. “Dragging him down wasn’t enough, now you’re trying to make a deal with us?”

“As if your souls are worth anything to me now,” Crowley said. “I have a little problem on my hands that, if you help me take care, will help you deal with your little problem.”

“Bobby, you know we can’t trust him,” Dean said lowly so the demon couldn’t hear.

“We don’t have much of a choice, Dean,” Bobby told him. “If what he’s saying is true, then we might have a sure-fire way of stopping those damned Leviathans. At least hear him out before you go shooting him.”

Dean still looked less than thrilled with the situation, but he reluctantly his brother and Bobby inside the cabin. Both Winchesters kept their weapons out, ready to use at a moment’s notice. “Start talking,” Dean growled to Crowley.

The demon stepped further into the room, taking care to avoid the Devil’s Traps that were set up. “An acquaintance of mine recently found himself with an unexpected houseguest,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“So spirit, creature- what is it?” Dean asked. “And you can’t just deal with it yourself?”

“It’s an angel, actually, and no I can’t,” Crowley said. “He’s unconscious and on the verge of death. My friend has been killing himself trying to keep him alive, so I asked Singer to find a way to heal the angel.”

Bobby snorted. “Threatened me is more like it,” he muttered.

“Details,” Crowley said with a wave of his hand.

Dean shook his head. “I’ve had it with the fricken’ angels. I’m not getting wrapped up in Heaven’s messes again.”

“This has nothing to do with Heaven,” Crowley said, his patience wearing thin. “This angel hasn’t gone Upstairs for millennia.”

Sam swallowed thickly, his mind instantly going to Gabriel even if that was impossible. But Sam didn’t know of any other angels who had fled Heaven that long ago and a glance at his brother told him that Dean was just as clueless as he was.

Crowley rolled his eyes at their obvious confusion. “You want to get rid of the Leviathans? You help me heal this angel and he can take care of them for you.”

Sam’s stomach twisted, his heart pounding in his chest. It couldn’t be, that was impossible…

“It’s _Gabriel_ , you morons.”

The blood drained out of Sam’s face. “No. Gabriel is dead,” he said, his voice tinged with panic. He was starting to shake slightly, feeling as if his entire world had been turned upside down. “Lucifer killed him. He’s _dead_ , he can’t be… He’s not…”

“Whoa, calm down Sammy,” Dean said, pushing him gently down into a chair as Bobby passed Sam a glass of whiskey. To Crowley he asked, “How the hell can it be Gabriel? Lucifer killed him almost two years ago.”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” the demon admitted. “It wasn’t any of his pagan friends and judging from the state he’s in I doubt it was the Man Upstairs. Maybe your little angel did it before the Leviathans killed him.”

“Cas isn’t dead,” Dean snapped.

That caused Crowley to pause in surprise. “Really? How do you know?”

“Long story. More importantly, what the hell is up with you, Sam?” Dean asked, turning back to face his brother. “I mean I know you have a history with the guy, but you were never this freaked out when we saw him.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment. His mind was still a mess of jumbled thoughts and emotions; he had been so convinced that Gabriel was just another hallucination and now that that fundamental idea had been ripped away he no longer knew what to believe.

“Sammy?”

Sam looked up at his brother, the worry clearly visible on Dean’s face. Sam didn’t want to have to talk about this, didn’t want to admit that he apparently still couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. But his brother was expecting answers, and Sam knew that he owed him an explanation.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” he began hesitantly. “They started maybe a week, week and a half ago. Before Osiris, at least.”

“Dream of what? Of _Gabriel_?”

Sam nodded miserably. “I had been having dreams- nightmares- of the Pit for so long that I thought this had to be another hallucination, like Lucifer.” He laughed bitterly. “Gabriel kept trying to convince me that he really was alive and I refused to believe him. Even though the dreams obviously weren’t nightmares.”

“Then what the hell were they then?” Dean asked. He knew his brother had been sleeping better, but this was _Gabriel_ they were talking about. After all the crap the Archangel had put them through Dean had a hard time believing he would stop pulling tricks on them now.

“They were just… nice,” Sam said lamely, not sure how else to explain his dreams. “Like eating s’mores and talking about Norse mythology. Look, I know it doesn’t make much sense but he was always nice in the dreams.”

Dean snorted. “Sounds like one of your geeky dates to me.” Sam flushed with embarrassment and Dean gaped at him. “No. Damnit, Sam-”

“You’re certainly not one to talk about angelic boyfriends, Dean, so why don’t you save this discussion for later?” Crowley interjected smoothly. “The main point is that we now know why Gabriel’s Grace continues to decrease.”

“Because of what he does in the dreams?” Sam asked.

Crowley nodded. “Yes. And more importantly we have a way to reach Gabriel directly through Sam which means, if any of you bothered to stop and think for half of a bloody second, we can convince him stop playing Russian Roulette with his Grace, wake up, and get rid of the Leviathans so we can all go our merry ways again and you morons can have your happy ending.”

He reached out and, before any of the hunters could react, he grabbed Sam’s arm and the two of them disappeared.

Sam stumbled as Crowley let go of his arm but quickly recovered his balance and reached for the demon-killing knife as he tried to get his bearings. Crowley held up the knife, a smirk on his face. “Sorry, can’t have you trying to kill me.”

“Where the hell are we?” Sam asked.

“London.”

“London-?” Sam was stunned. “You brought me to _London_? And where are Dean and Bobby?”

“Back at the cabin, I’d imagine,” Crowley said nonchalantly.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Go get them.”

Crowley sighed exasperatedly. “Fine.” He pointed towards one of the buildings, a boarded-up bookshop. “Don’t touch that door. I have no idea if the wards will recognize you as human or not.”

The demon disappeared, only to reappear a few moments later with Dean and Bobby in tow.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted. “What the hell is going on?”

Crowley ignored him as he faced the bookshop and began to change the wards to allow the hunters access to the building, while Sam filled the other two in on what little Crowley had told him about where they were.

“Right then, some rules for while you’re here,” Crowley said as he turned to face the humans again. “No touching anything. No talking about the Apocalypse or anything that happened afterwards or discussing my role in certain recent events. No-”

“Crowley? Is that you?”

Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale who was leaning against the doorframe. The demon knew that the hunters were watching carefully, no doubt making their own judgments about the newcomer, but that didn’t stop Crowley from hurrying forward to check on his angel. Aziraphale was paler than he had ever been, with dark circles under his eyes.

“You sssstupid idiot, haven’t you been taking care of yourssssself?” he said, hissing slightly as his panic and concern clearly came through. He carefully slipped under Aziraphale’s arm, supporting the angel’s weight.

Aziraphale hummed slightly, resting his head against the demon’s shoulder and allowing his eyes to slide shut. “Had to take care of Gabriel,” he murmured. He motioned vaguely back towards where the hunters were standing. “Are those the hunters you said would help?”

Crowley glanced back towards Bobby and the Winchesters. They were staring at him in cautious surprise, obviously wondering who Aziraphale was and what he was up to. “Yes,” Crowley said softly, smothering his natural instinct to hiss the word. “Though it’s a bit more complicated now.”

Aziraphale studied the humans for a moment, nodding slowly. “I’ll go put the tea on and we can discuss it then,” he said. He stepped away from Crowley, swaying unsteadily for a moment, before straightening his shoulders and walking calmly into the bookstore.

Crowley watched his angel carefully to make sure that he wasn’t going to collapse before glancing back at the humans. “Well? Are you going to come in or not?”

“What the hell is going on exactly?” Sam asked. “And who was that?”

Crowley scowled, quickly debating how much he should reveal to the humans. He hated to tell them anything, but he knew that Aziraphale wasn’t going to hide much. “That was Aziraphale. He’s an angel who was stationed down here about 6,000 years ago and has become a bit ambiguous when it comes to following orders. I have a sort of… Arrangement with him, you might say. At any rate, he’s the one who has been looking after Gabriel.”

“An angel,” Dean repeated in disbelief. “And does this angel know what position you hold?”

“No, and he’s not going to,” Crowley said firmly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Crowley snapped his fingers. There was a sudden low growl from behind Dean and hot, rancid breath on the back of his neck. Dean stiffened and went very still, resisting the urge to glare at the demon in front of him; he may have a penchant for doing stupid things, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to piss off the only person who could control the Hellhound that was literally breathing down his neck.

“My dear, put Growly away and come inside,” Aziraphale called from inside the house.

Dean’s lips twitched at the name, though he tried to keep a still face. Crowley held his Hellhound there for a moment longer, before silently giving the order for it to stand down. “If any of you breathe one word to him about anything, I will not hesitate to let my Hound rip to you shreds,” he threatened in a low voice, before turning and leading the way into the bookshop.

There were four steaming cups of tea set out on the kitchen table. Crowley grabbed one without hesitation; the humans exchanged glances before warily picking up a cup for themselves. Aziraphale was leaning against the counter, sipping on his own cup of tea and looking marginally better than he had moments before. “Would someone care to explain how the situation has changed, and why my brothers’ Vessels are standing in my kitchen?” he asked lightly.

Sam glanced over at Crowley, trying to gauge the demon’s reaction as he said, “Long story short, I’ve been dreaming of Gabriel. Crowley thought I’d be able to use the dreams to reach him, convince him to come back. Bobby and Dean are here…” He faltered for a moment. It didn’t feel right to explain how they were here to watch his back, that it was engrained in them that it was safer to stay together. “They’re here because they- well, we- need Gabriel’s help with a problem of our own,” he finally said.

Aziraphale smiled slightly and nodded, as if he knew everything Sam chose not to say. “I understand,” he said, before turning back to the matter at hand. “Now, you should know that, despite being unconscious, he’s been draining his Grace ever since he showed up on my doorstep. I’ve been bolstering it with my own, but it’s done little good. You’re going to have to convince him not only to stop using his Grace in these dreams, but also to allow his to recharge naturally. He’s running dangerously low right now and one wrong move could prove to be disastrous.”

Sam swallowed harshly. He was suddenly struck with the magnitude of what they were asking of him to do, how much they were relying on him, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to follow through with it. “Can I… Can I see him?” he asked hesitantly. Right now he just needed that confirmation that the Archangel really was alive.

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, setting his tea aside. “Follow me.”

He lead Sam up to the guest room, neither of them paying much attention to the others following slowly behind them. He pushed open the door and allowed Sam to walk inside first, while Crowley stopped the two hunters from following them into the room.

Sam sank down onto the edge of the bed, quietly overwhelmed at the sight of the Archangel. Gabriel looked like he was a step away from Death’s door and for one heart-stopping moment Sam thought he was too late, that the angel was already there. But Sam could see the faint rise and fall of his chest and he knew that he still had a chance to fix things, to save Gabriel.

Sam gently brushed a piece of hair out of Gabriel’s face. It scared him how vulnerable the Archangel looked, how different he was from the Gabriel Sam had been with in his dreams. “I want to try to reach him,” he said quietly.

Though his words weren’t intended for anyone in particular, it was Aziraphale who spoke. “I can put you under, so to speak, and tether your dreams to Gabriel. I don’t doubt that you would find him on your own, but this way we can at least guarantee that you won’t wake up until he does… or until something breaks the connection.”

“Can we do it now?”

“It probably would be for the best,” Aziraphale said. “Lay down on the bed, next to Gabriel.”

Sam glanced over at Bobby and his brother. Neither looked particularly happy at the thought of Sam being put in an angelic sleep by a friend of Crowley’s that they had just met, but neither made any move to stop him; they all knew that they were running out of options, and this was their last hope.

Sam stretched out on the bed next to Gabriel, resisting the temptation to roll over and wrap himself around the Archangel like he so wanted to. Aziraphale’s fingers brushed lightly against his forehead and Sam let himself succumb to the pull of sleep.

Aziraphale stepped away from the bed, swaying unsteadily for a moment before pulling himself together. “Well. That’s it then. Nothing left to do but wait.”

“How long is this going to take?” Dean asked tensely.

“Depends on how good of a negotiator your moose is,” Crowley told him. “And whether Gabriel is interested in what he’s offering.”

Dean made a face at that, his expression somewhere between horrified and furious, and Crowley rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what Sam was hinting at back at the cabin and if Gabriel somehow feels the same way- well let’s just say I have better things to do than watch your brother have a very vivid wet dream.” The demon turned towards Aziraphale and said, “I have some things I have to take care of. I’ll be back.”

Before he could leave Aziraphale grabbed his arm and pulled him close, kissing him lightly, barely more than a brushing of lips. “Stay,” he murmured. “Just for a little while.”

Crowley sighed. “Angel, I can’t…”

“Please?” Aziraphale asked and, knowing that the demon’s resolve was starting to waver, he added, “I’ve missed you.”

Crowley glared at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “Now you’re just not playing fair.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear,” Aziraphale said, though there was an amused twinkled in his tired eyes that wasn’t there before. He turned towards the two hunters who were still standing near the door, unsure of what they were supposed to do now and trying not to stare at the angel and the demon in disbelief. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to do around here, unless you’re interested in books…”

“Books are fine by me,” Bobby said awkwardly, and judging from the way Aziraphale beamed at him it was the right thing to say.

The angel led the older hunter down the stairs, chatting about some obscure texts he had gotten his hands on. Crowley followed them down, pausing ever-so-slightly as he passed Dean to glance up at him. The human glared at him until the faintest howling of a Hellhound broke his concentration and a shiver ran down his spine. Crowley smirked and continued past, the howling fading away into silence.

Dean scowled. He didn’t know whether he was seeing a new side of the demon’s or if this was some elaborate trick, but he still didn’t trust the bastard. With one last glance towards the bed- he really hoped it wouldn’t take Sam long to sort things out- he followed the demon back down the stairs.

XXXXX

_Gabriel and the field were the same as they had always been, but although it looked like nothing had changed Sam was still overwhelmed at the sight of the Archangel. He knew that Gabriel had been telling the truth this entire time, that he really was alive, and that changed everything._

_Gabriel must have sensed that something was up because he cautiously asked, “Sammy, what’s going on?”_

_“You’re alive,” was the quiet response from the hunter because although there were a million things that Sam wanted to say he couldn’t seem to voice any of them._

_Except Gabriel just seemed more confused than he had been before. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, kiddo,” he said. “What changed your mind on the matter?”_

_“Crowley,” Sam said._

_“Didn’t think you were on good terms with the demon,” Gabriel said slowly._

_“I’m not. We’re not,” Sam said. “But him and… Aziraphale, I think it was… found you on their doorstep. They’ve been trying to take care of you, but you kept getting worse. Aziraphale finally forced Crowley to get help and he went to us. Well, to Bobby actually, who called us. Crowley said that since I’ve been coming here, I was the only one who could try to help you.”_

_“Help me how?”_

_Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re dying, Gabriel,” he said slowly. How could the Archangel not be aware of that fact?_

_Gabriel snorted. “Last time I was here you thought I was already dead, so forgive me if I don’t really see what difference that makes.”_

_“It makes all the difference in the world! All those things you did when I was here, that was using up your Grace, wasn’t it? Using it up for me, for some inexplicable reason, so yeah, it matters to me that you’re dying now! Why the hell would you do something so stupid like that?” Sam was starting to get angry at the Archangel for not caring that he had been throwing away his own life force, for seemingly no other reason than to amuse him while he slept. He didn’t know how he was supposed to convince Gabriel to stop, convince him that he really did care, when for some reason the stubborn idiot apparently decided to not listen._

_“You really don’t know?” Gabriel asked. “Sammy, I have nothing left. You’re my only connection to my past life. All I wanted was to try and make up for everything I’ve done to you, to get you to not hate me anymore. There’s not much left for me besides that.”_

_Sam didn’t know whether to smile or scowl because seriously, was Gabriel really that blind? “You mean you really don’t know?” he said, teasingly throwing the angel’s words back at him. “Gabriel, I haven’t hated you for a long time. In fact, this is pretty fucking far from me hating you.” Sam hoped that Gabriel would pick up on what he was trying to say; he didn’t know if he was ready to admit his feelings for the angel aloud because although he knew that he loved Gabriel, he had no idea if the sentiment was returned at all and he didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t._

_Gabriel inhaled sharply and yeah, he must have figured it out. He took a small step forward, just starting to invade Sam’s personal space but still giving the human enough room to back out. “Then you should know that I may have had ulterior motives in what I was doing,” Gabriel said in a low voice._

_Sam figured that two could play at that game and he stepped forward as well until there were only a few inches separating him from Gabriel. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out,” he said, with the faintest of grins._

_Gabriel looked up at him and smirked. “Then shut up and kiss me, Winchester.”_

_Sam couldn’t help but smile even as grabbed Gabriel by the front of his jacket, ducking his head down and pulling the angel in for a kiss. He loved that he could manhandle Gabriel like that, hadn’t even realized how much he loved it until then but he could certainly get used to it. Gabriel had to stand on his tiptoes just to reach up high enough, one hand balanced on Sam’s chest, fingers stroking gently as Sam broke the kiss and moved to nibble on the side of Gabriel’s neck._

_Sam shifted his leg, pressing it further between Gabriel’s thighs, providing just the smallest hint of friction against the Archangel’s rapidly hardening cock. Gabriel groaned at the contact and immediately began tugging at Sam’s jacket, pulling it off quickly only to struggle with the buttons on Sam’s shirt. Before Sam could even think of helping him, Gabriel gave up and raised his fingers to snap._

_Sam saw the movement and panicked, quickly grabbing his hand to stop him from doing anything. “No using your powers, Gabriel. We’re doing this the human way.”_

_Gabriel huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “This won’t kill me, Sammy.”_

_But Sam could remember all-too-clearly Gabriel’s deathly still Vessel lying on Aziraphale’s guest bed and he just couldn’t risk it. He kissed the hand that he was still holding and rolled his hips against Gabriel’s, eliciting another quiet moan from the angel. “I don’t care,” Sam whispered as he pulled Gabriel’s jacket off and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “We’re doing this my way.”_

_Gabriel shuddered at the words, his eyes darkening with lust, and he pulled harshly on the front of Sam’s shirt. The movement unbalanced both of them, sending them sprawling to the ground where Gabriel wasted no time in simply tearing at Sam’s shirt until buttons went flying and the offending garment was finally removed. Sam laughed at Gabriel’s impatience and pulled the Archangel up just enough to get his shirt off as Gabriel tugged Sam’s t-shirt over his head and threw it to the side._

_Sam forced Gabriel back down, using his larger body to pin him to the ground as he began nipping at his neck once more. He slowly worked his way down Gabriel’s body, licking over the hollow of his throat and sucking a bruise into the collarbone. He latched onto a nipple, biting it lightly and swirling his tongue around the bud. Gabriel gasped and arched up, one hand reaching up to tangle in Sam’s hair, tugging lightly but not pulling him away._

_Sam continued his path downwards, his tongue mapping every inch of Gabriel’s body, stopping only to nip at his sides and stomach, marking up the otherwise flawless skin. Gabriel writhed beneath him, one hand moving to run down Sam’s back before returning to his hair, as if the angel no longer knew what he wanted to do with it and fuck, Sam needs more. He slipped his hand down, palming at Gabriel’s cock through the thick denim of his jeans, and the angel groaned, bucking up into his hand. “Sam, please. Do_ something _.”_

_“I am doing something,” Sam said teasingly, leaning back down to run his tongue over one of his bite marks, but he did know what the angel meant and he quickly undid the button on Gabriel’s jeans, pulling the zipper down almost tauntingly slow. Gabriel growled impatiently, pointedly lifting his hips so Sam could tug the jeans away._

_Sam took a moment to study the Archangel, committing every detail to memory. The flushed skin, the marks he left, the slight drip of precome at the slit of Gabriel’s cock… But the Archangel was smirking up at him and before Gabriel could make any snide comment, Sam wrapped his hand around Gabriel’s length. He kept his strokes slow and teasing, thumb smearing precome over the head, his other hand pinning the angel down to stop him from thrusting up like he so desperately wanted to._

_Gabriel whined in frustration and threw his head back, his hips twitching underneath Sam’s hand. “Sammy, come on, please!”_

_Sam chuckled again but he only had a brief moment of smug satisfaction before Gabriel surged up, using his previously-ignored angelic strength to flip them over so he was the one pinning Sam down. “Gabriel, what-” Sam began, but then Gabriel leaned down and mouthed at his cock through his jeans and the rest of his sentence was cut off with a groan._

_Gabriel pulled away just long enough to tug Sam’s jeans off. He grinned up at the hunter, and that was the only warning Sam got before the Archangel swallowed him whole. Sam cried out at the sudden sensation, his hips instinctually trying to thrust up, but Gabriel was already pinning him down, stopping him from moving as he ran his tongue up the vein of Sam’s cock and swirled it around the head._

_“Fuck, Gabriel,” Sam gasped and damnit, an_ Angel of the Lord _should not be this amazing at giving blowjobs but Sam felt like he was seconds from coming already and when Gabriel chuckled around his cock the vibrations drove him right to the edge._

_But Gabriel pulled away, smirking as Sam whined at the loss of contact. “Sorry Sammy, not yet,” he said, moving up to straddle the hunter’s chest. “You still intent on doing this sans Grace?” Sam nodded and Gabriel’s smirk grew wider. “Looks like this is your lucky day then, kiddo.”_

_Sam watched as Gabriel sucked two fingers into his mouth, quickly coating them with saliva before reaching around behind him. Sam groaned as he felt the fingers run teasingly up his cock for a moment, but then Gabriel braced himself against Sam’s chest and gasped as he slipped the first finger inside._

_Sam felt himself grow impossibly harder at the sight of the Archangel opening himself up for him. “God, Gabriel, fuck, do you even realize how hot you look right now?” he muttered._

_As tempted as he was to lie back and enjoy the show, there was something else that Sam wanted and he reached up, wrapped his arms around Gabriel and ran his hands along the angel’s back. He knew he had found the right spot when Gabriel suddenly jerked and Sam dug his fingers in, scratching the area lightly._

_“Fucking hell!”_

_That was exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. “You think I didn’t notice how you reacted to my hands on your wings?” Sam asked, pressing deep along the edges of Gabriel’s shoulder blades. “How much you fucking wanted it?”_

_“Sammy-!”_

_“Let them out, Gabriel,” Sam ordered and the Archangel complied. The wings pressed tight against Gabriel’s back as Sam dug his hands in, tugging lightly at the feathers and tracing the outline of the wing muscles underneath. Gabriel moaned and Sam could just see him adding another finger, quickly stretching himself, and Sam didn’t know how much more of this damn teasing he could take._

_But it seemed Gabriel had the same feelings as him because the Archangel positioned himself over the hunter’s cock and Sam groaned, biting down on his lip as Gabriel slowly sank down and fuck, if Sam knew it would feel like this he would have jumped the angel ages ago. Gabriel paused for a brief moment and Sam growled, quickly thrusting up into that tight heat. Gabriel moaned and took the hint, rocking back down on Sam’s cock and setting a quick, brutal pace._

_Sam groaned, clenching his hands in Gabriel’s wings as he thrusts up, and he knew that neither of them were going to last long. He moved one hand down to grab Gabriel’s cock, trying to match his strokes to their faltering thrusts as much as possible. “Fuck, Gabriel, god, so good…” Sam barely knew what he was saying, barely even heard the Archangel repeating his name over and over as he rode him._

_Gabriel came first, crying out with a voice that barely sounded human, his wings fluttering behind him as his come streaks both of their chests. Sam groaned as Gabriel clamped down on him, inner muscles fluttering around his cock. He thrust up once, twice more and then he was done, coming deep inside Gabriel as the Archangel collapses against him._

_They were both breathing heavily and Sam could already feel the pull of sleep as Gabriel pulled off him and drew his wings up to form a small cocoon around them. The hunter closed his eyes, taking a rare moment to just enjoy where he was, and suddenly heard a soft snap. Sam quickly opened his eyes, barely noticing that Gabriel had cleaned them up and redressed them through his worry for the Archangel’s wellbeing._

_“Relax, Sammy,” Gabriel murmured as closed his eyes and nuzzled against Sam’s chest. “My Grace has been fully restored. Think of it as you having a magical healing cock that just saved my life.”_

_Sam couldn’t help but laugh even as a feeling of relief overwhelmed him. He had done it, he had saved Gabriel and hell, he had finally gotten something good out of everything. “You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly._

_“But you love me,” Gabriel said._

_Sam smiled gently and kissed the top of the angel’s head. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”_

_Gabriel hummed contentedly and wrapped his wings tighter around them, and even if he didn’t say anything Sam knew that the Archangel felt the same._

XXXXX

“How long have you been collecting books for?” Bobby asked as he scanned one of the many shelves in the backroom of the bookstore.

“Quite a few years,” Aziraphale said with a slight smile. “This particular collection was a couple hundred years old, until I lost it in a fire. Most of the books were replaced but, well… You can’t just _recreate_ a 400 year-old manuscript.”

“You can’t recreate a vintage Bentley either,” Crowley muttered under his breath.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling that that particular exchange had already occurred numerous times. Dean must have been thinking the same thing because he chose that moment to casually ask, “So how long have you known each other, then?”

“Awhile,” Aziraphale said vaguely, with a glance over at Crowley. He remembered the demon mentioning that not everyone was aware of his long-distant angelic past, and he didn’t want to give too much information out about the demon. Not until he knew what exactly he had been up to, that was.

“Right. Well, you wouldn’t happen to have any food in the place, would you?” Dean asked, ignoring the glare Crowley sent his way.

“I’m afraid not,” Aziraphale said apologetically. “But there’s a lovely little café down the street. I could show you where it is.”

“No, you should stay here,” Crowley said quickly. “You’re still not looking well, Angel.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’m doing much better than I was before.”

“I still don’t want you leaving with him.

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Aziraphale ignored the hunter. “Then why don’t you run out and get some food for our guests, my dear? I’m afraid I don’t have much in the kitchen besides tea and biscuits.”

“What’s wrong with tea and biscuits?” Crowley asked, a bit too casually. His eyes flicked over to Dean, narrowing slightly.

Aziraphale wasn’t fooled, however. “If you don’t want to leave me alone with him, then take Dean with you,” he said. His voice was cooler than it had been before, his eyes a bit harder. “I’m sure Mr. Singer and I can find something in my collection to discuss until you return.”

The suggestion was innocent enough, especially as it was no secret that Crowley didn’t trust Dean alone with the angel, but there was a tension behind it that caught everyone off guard. Dean glanced at Bobby, silently asking what the hell was going on. Bobby shrugged slightly, just as confused as the younger hunter was. Even Crowley looked suspicious for a moment, before he surprised everyone by nodding. “Fine. Come on, Winchester.”

Dean shot one last, questioning glance at Aziraphale as he reluctantly followed Crowley towards the door, but the angel had already turned away and didn’t meet his gaze.

Bobby watched the two of them leave and was startled when Aziraphale suddenly said, “To be honest, I’m surprised Dean agreed to go with him.”

The older hunter recovered from his surprise quickly and muttered, “Yeah well, the kid’s always thought with his stomach. Probably figured food beat looking at your books.”

Aziraphale had been living with humans for longer that most of the angels Bobby was used to dealing with, had had more time to perfect his mannerisms, but it’s almost painful how fake his forced smile looks. But it was only there for a split-second before Aziraphale’s face crumbled, deep hurt showing clearly before he spun quickly on his heel, turning away from Bobby; when he spoke, his voice was steady and void of emotion. “Are you familiar with Crowley’s role in the Apocalypse?”

Bobby could still remember Ellen and Jo, that night before they went out after Lucifer on nothing but Crowley’s word. Could still taste the demon’s mouth as he dealt his soul away. “Yeah,” he finally said. “You could say that.”

Aziraphale nodded slightly, tensely, still not facing the hunter. “And… and after? Do you know what he’s been doing since then?”

And suddenly it hit Bobby what this was all about. Crowley had confirmed that the angel didn’t know he was the King of Hell, but… “You don’t know _anything_ do you?”

“He refused to tell me anything,” Aziraphale said, finally turning back to face Bobby. “Neither of us have been in good graces with our superiors in recent years, so when the Apocalypse started we both agreed it would be best to sit it out. But Crowley hasn’t been quite so removed from things as I have been and he felt it best if he did one last… well, one last _something_. At any rate, he did _not_ leave it at that one thing and he’s been refusing to tell me what’s going on ever since. At first I thought it was to keep me safe but now… Now I’m not so sure.”

Bobby sighed, and now he was the one avoiding looking directly at the angel. “But you and him- You’re… well…”

“Only sometimes,” Aziraphale said with a faint smile, one that seemed a bit more genuine than his previous one. “Please. Crowley will return soon. I need to know what’s going on before then.”

To say that Bobby didn’t like this situation was an understatement. He had no love for angels or for Crowley, and yet here he was being ordered to share the demon’s history with one he had just met. “He has a Hellhound,” Bobby pointed out.

“Growly? I can control him just as well as Crowley can.”

“Can you control him after we leave?” Bobby demanded. “’Cause if I talk, Crowley won’t stop ‘til me and the Winchesters are dead. So unless you can guarantee us protection from him, I ain’t saying a word.”

“Once Gabriel wakes up you’ll hardly need my help to stay safe,” Aziraphale said lightly, but he was still tense and it was obvious that Bobby’s words and implications were starting to worry him. “But yes, I swear I will protect all of you to the best of my ability.”

Bobby still looked less than thrilled with the situation, but he nodded slowly. “Alright then,” he said. “Can’t say you’re going to like what you’re gonna hear, but I’ll tell you what Crowley’s been up to.” He sat down at the rickety table and looked up at the angel. “You’re gonna have to explain to me what you know, because I don’t know where to begin.”

Aziraphale nodded and took the seat across from him. “Quite a few years ago there was another attempt at an Apocalypse,” he said. “Not quite as thorough as this last one was, but bad enough. Crowley and I stepped forward and played a small role in stopping it, despite orders from our superiors. Afterwards, we both laid low for a little while. My superiors weren’t too keen on actually coming down here themselves at the time, but Crowley… Well, he wasn’t quite so lucky.”

“They get to him?” Bobby asked.

“He never said,” Aziraphale told him. “But maybe about a year after the attempted Apocalypse, he disappeared for almost a week. When he finally showed up again all he would say was that he had orders to start working the Crossroads. He wasn’t serious about it, always tried to be generous with the deals he had to make and whatnot.”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah. I got that,” he said, absently rubbing his leg.

“We never really talked about his work a lot, of course,” Aziraphale continued. “He had his duties, and I still had mine. Once this Apocalypse started and my brothers started to fight, we both laid low once more. Neither of us was sure we’d survive defying direct orders again, so we both assumed it would be best not to let that happen. But, as I said, Crowley had been involved with affairs leading up to this. He swore he had one last thing to take care of… But he never really stopped. I know he’s been lying to me about what he’s doing ever since the Apocalypse was stopped, but he’s always said it’s been for my own protection. The idiot just won’t tell me what he’s protecting me from.”

Bobby sighed. Aziraphale seemed nice enough, and he certainly seemed to genuinely care about Crowley. Telling him the truth was only going to end badly, but he at least had the right to know what was going on. “Crowley wasn’t just working the crossroads,” he began, figuring it was best to start there and work his way up to the bigger news. “He was king of ‘em.”

Aziraphale started. “The _King_ of the Crossroads? Are you sure?”

Bobby nodded. “Don’t know how he did it. Probably just worked his way up. Maybe he figured the less people he had to report to, the better. I don’t know. Sam and Dean first ran into him looking for the Colt, a gun that’ll kill demons. They figured it was their best bet to take care of Lucifer.”

“Lucifer isn’t a demon though,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“So they found out,” Bobby said. “Lost two of our good friends before then, though. That’s probably the first thing they’re holding again him.”

“Understandable,” Aziraphale said. He was shaken by the news that Crowley had held such a high position, but Bobby’s reasoning for why he did it made sense. “Is that all then? He’s been busy acting as King of the Crossroads?”

“Not exactly,” Bobby said hesitantly. This was going to be the hard part. “See, getting rid of Lucifer like that left a sort of power vacuum in Hell. Someone had to capitalize on that. Crowley just got there first.”

“No. You’re lying,” Aziraphale said instantly. “He wouldn’t-”

“He did,” Bobby said firmly. “Became King of Hell. Second reason the boys and I don’t trust him. Then…”

“Then what?”

Bobby sighed. “There was this angel. Name of Castiel. He’s the one who pulled Dean from Hell. All but fell for him, and saved our asses more times than I can count. But there was a civil war in Heaven, him versus Raphael, who wanted to restart the Apocalypse. From what I understand, Castiel needed more power to stop him. So Crowley made a deal with him to find Purgatory and split the souls in there.”

Aziraphale seemed to be in a state of shock and, figuring it was best to get it all out now, Bobby continued. “We found out and Dean… Well, Dean was pissed. But Cas went and opened Purgatory anyway. Took in all the souls for himself and just blew up Raphael. But he also swallowed some things he didn’t mean to and they were wearin’ him out. He came to us for help, gave up the souls, but they took over his Vessel. We assumed he was dead, but Sam and Dean recently found out he’s not. That’s why Dean wants Gabriel awake, so he can go save Castiel. And Dean still blames Crowley for letting that happen to Cas.”

Aziraphale buried his head in his hands. He could barely believe what Bobby was saying, but the hunter had no reason to lie to him and everything he said matched up with Crowley’s actions over the past two years. Except… except the Crowley he was told about wasn’t the dear friend who took him to dinner at the Ritz, or who went to feed the ducks. The real question was, had Aziraphale been dealing with the King of Hell all this time? Or with his old friend?

Aziraphale stood from the table. “Thank you for telling me this,” he said with forced calmness. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to think things over.”

Things such as changes to make to the wards, and the best way to ward against unwanted demons.

XXXXX

To say that Dean’s little outing with Crowley was awkward would be beyond an understatement. The demon never said a word, never glanced his way, just silently led him down the streets towards a small café tucked between a couple of shops.

“What, no burger joint?” Dean said, but the joke fell flat and Crowley stayed silent as the hunter ordered sandwiches for him and Bobby, even when the demon had to step forward to pay for them. “You gonna tell me what crawled up your ass and died?” he asked as they left the café.

“Last I checked we weren’t what you’d call friends, so I’d say it’s none of your damn business,” Crowley snapped.

For once Dean kept his mouth shut, the threat of the Hellhound still too fresh in his mind to really want to risk pissing off the demon anymore. And he already had a feeling that he knew what it was about anyway; the tension in the bookstore had been thick enough to cut with a knife, and based on what little he had picked up about the angel that was _not_ Aziraphale’s typical M.O.

They had just rounded the final corner, the bookstore in sight, when a sudden explosion rocked the street. Dean ducked instinctively as windows burst around him. He vaguely registered the sound of car alarms blaring and people screaming as he yelled at Crowley, “What the hell was that?”

Crowley was swearing under his breath. “Damnit. I was hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?” Dean snapped. “And _who_?”

“Your Sasquatch’s Archangel boyfriend, that’s who! Any supernatural being with half a brain would have felt that blast of Grace and now I’m stuck doing damage control!”

Crowley disappeared before Dean could say anything in response. “Son of a bitch!” Dean muttered as he jogged over to the bookshop and slipped inside.

He was half-expecting the place to look like a warzone, but to his immense surprise it looked no different than it had when he left. Given the fact that Aziraphale was using his Grace to fix one last window, however, it was easy to see why that was. “Where’s Crowley?” the angel asked in a carefully neutral voice.

“Ran off after that blast. Said something about doing damage control.” Dean glanced at Bobby, trying to silently ask what was up with the angel, but Bobby was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. Something had happened while he was gone, that much was obvious. “Right. So are Gabriel and Sam awake yet?”

“Nope. Gabriel just got his powers back; they’re still out cold,” Bobby said, studying the book in front of him rather than looking up when he answered.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just uh, wait upstairs until they get up then,” Dean said, edging towards the stairs in hopes of avoiding- well, avoiding being avoided by Bobby and Aziraphale.

“Actually, my dear, it would be best if you stayed down here,” Aziraphale said. “Just in case Gabriel’s Grace gets out of control again. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t move around much at all; I’m trying to… er, _repair_ the wards and any distraction could be dangerous.”

Dean had finally had enough. “Yeah, okay. But if you two ever decide to fill me in on whatever the hell I missed while I was out with Crowley-”

“Who said you missed anything, ya idjit?” Bobby said. “Now did you get food, or not?”

“Didn’t miss anything my ass,” Dean muttered, but he tossed Bobby one of the sandwiches and flopped down on the old couch, silently watching the angel work on the wards- though from the way Aziraphale was removing the old ones completely and building new ones, it was clear they weren’t just being “repaired”. But if they weren’t going to fill him in, he wasn’t going to pry. Not yet, anyway. He had too many problems of his own to worry about.

He didn’t know how Castiel was doing, whether the Leviathans had killed him for what he did or if he was still a prisoner in his own Vessel. Didn’t know how long they had to save him before it was finally too late. Didn’t know fucking _anything_ and couldn’t do anything except wait and hope that Gabriel would help them, that Gabriel even cared about Castiel to save him.

Dean sighed and forced himself to take a bite of his sandwich. He felt trapped, restless, but he couldn’t go anywhere until Sam and Gabriel woke up. And he had a feeling he still had a long time to wait.


	5. Part IV

There was a moment, between dreaming and actually being awake, when Sam could have sworn he saw Gabriel’s wings stretched out across Aziraphale’s guest room, brushing the walls and trailing along the floor. But as he blinked slowly, yawning as he struggled to wake up fully, they slowly faded from view.

Gabriel, however, did not.

Sometime, somehow, while they were sleeping they had managed to wrap themselves around each other. Their legs were a tangled mess and Gabriel was curled against Sam’s side, practically lying on top of him. The Archangel was already awake, watching Sam wake up with a slight smile on his face. “You’re actually here,” the hunter murmured with a smile of his own as he kissed the top of Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel hummed in contented agreement and closed his eyes. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, Sammy. And neither is your brother, for that matter.” He cracked open one eye again. “He does know about this, right?”

Sam’s heart sank at the mention of Dean. He had forgotten until that moment that there was another reason for saving Gabriel, that he wasn’t the only one whose happiness was at stake. “I, uh, yeah, I think he knows,” he answered quickly. “Listen, Gabriel, there’s something I should tell you-”

The door to the guest room suddenly opened, interrupting Sam before he could finish speaking, and Dean entered the room. He stopped short when he saw the two entwined figures on the bed and quickly focused on the far corner, his face flushing slightly. Sam scowled and tried to untangle himself from Gabriel, who refused to let go of the hunter. “What do you want?” Sam asked when he finally pried Gabriel off of him.

“We need to get going, Sammy,” Dean said tersely, still avoiding looking towards the bed.

Sam sighed; no doubt his brother had spent his time panicking about Castiel, and he knew there was no talking Dean out of going to the reservoir right away.

“Go where?”

Right. Gabriel still didn’t know about Castiel being alive, didn’t know that they needed his help with this. Sam opened his mouth to explain things to the Archangel, but Dean beat him to it. “Didn’t Sam tell you? Cas is alive. We need you to get rid of the Leviathans using his Vessel so he can get better and the three of us can hit the road again. So get your asses out of bed so we can get going, okay?” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room, leaving Sam alone with Gabriel again.

Gabriel sat silently, as motionless as a statue, and Sam’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. “I’m, uh, sorry for not warning you about this,” he said lamely to break the silence. “It’s just, in the dream, things were… well, you know… and then-”

“It’s fine, Sam. I understand,” Gabriel said as he slid out of the bed, but his voice was suddenly detached and cool, and he steadfastly avoided looking at the hunter. “We should leave now. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner… Well, the sooner it’ll be over with.”

“Gabriel…” Sam began, reaching out for the Archangel, but Gabriel stepped away from the bed, snapping his fingers to straighten his clothes, and headed downstairs.

Sam watched him leave in confusion. What the hell had caused that complete change in attitude? He scrambled out of bed, barely taking a minute to fix his own clothes, and dashed down the stairs himself, fully intending to demand answers from Gabriel. But the Archangel was locked in a discussion with Aziraphale, their voices low even though they were speaking Enochian. Dean was pacing in front of the door, visibly anxious to leave, but he paused for a moment to study his brother, as if confirming for himself that Sam really was alright.

“Good to see you up and about, boy,” Bobby said gruffly, setting aside the book he had been looking at.

Sam glanced over at Gabriel quickly before focusing on the older hunter. “Yeah, no, it’s good to be up. What’s going on, exactly?”

“Those two-” Bobby jabbed a finger towards the two angels. “-are working out the particulars of some ritual that needs to be done. Guess it’s a bit different than the one Castiel and Crowley used originally. Then you and Dean are going with him to the reservoir to fix this whole mess.”

“You’re not coming with us?”

Bobby shook his head. “There’s not much any of us will be able to do there. If I thought either of you idjits would agree to it, I’d have you stay here as well. No sense in Gabriel having to haul too many extra people halfway ‘round the world.”

“When will they be done?” Sam asked.

“Right about now,” Gabriel said as he joined the hunters, though he focused on Bobby and Dean rather than on Sam. “Ready to go, Deano?”

“What, just like that? Don’t you need an eclipse or something for this to work?” Sam asked. He had been sure that it would still be some time before they left, time that he could use to figure out what had caused Gabriel’s mood to change.

Gabriel still wouldn’t look at Sam, even as he answered, “Different ritual, like Singer said. Just some sigils and chanting on my end and you’ll have your angelic guard dog back.”

Dean bristled at the guard dog comment, but Sam ignored him and said in a low voice, “Gabriel, can I talk to you?”

“Nothing to talk about, Sam,” Gabriel said coolly. “Are we going to hit the road, or what?”

“Yeah, we’ll hit the road,” Dean said before Sam could say anything else. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Gabriel nodded tensely. “We’ll return as soon as we can,” he said to Bobby and Aziraphale, before reaching out and grabbing onto Sam and Dean.

The hunters stumbled as they landed by the reservoir, needing a moment to regain their balance, but Gabriel was already on the move. He quickly sketched a collection of sigils in the mud by the shoreline, strange symbols that neither brother had seen before. “These are designed to pull anything away from the immediate area that isn’t supposed to be here,” he said as he worked. “Including angels, unfortunately. Once the Leviathan boss leaves Castiel’s Vessel the others should be pulled in as well, regardless of where they are. Let’s just hope that Cas is strong enough to resist the pull.”

“What about you?” Sam asked quietly. “You just got your Grace back. Are you going to be alright?”

Gabriel shrugged carelessly. He glanced up at Sam quickly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “I’ll manage.”

Sam didn’t know how things had gone to hell between him and Gabriel so quickly, but there was no way he was going to let the Archangel do this before he figured out what happened. He reached out and grabbed Gabriel’s sleeve, pulling him around to face him. “Gabriel, please. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sam,” Gabriel said, wrenching his sleeve away. “Once I save your angel’s ass the _three_ of you can return to hunting. Wasn’t that the whole point of this?”

Sam stared at him in shock in disbelief, unable to even think of something to say as Gabriel walked away towards the water. _That_ was what was bothering him? Dean’s stupid little excluding comment back in Aziraphale’s guest room?

The sound of low chanting startled him from his thoughts, and his heart sank as he realized that it was too late to talk to the angel again. Gabriel had started the ritual, the foreign words of his spell seeming to echo in the still air around them. Sam felt the power behind the words building, like a buzz of electricity building on his skin. Next to him Dean was silent, his eyes focused on the water of the reservoir, looking for the first signs of the Leviathan.

He didn’t have long to wait before the ground began to shake and ripples began to form on the water’s surface, much like before. Only this time, it was clear that the Leviathan was being forced out and it struggled against the pull of Gabriel’s magic, screaming curses and empty threats at the figures gathered on the shore. It raised its arm and pinned Sam and Dean back against the trees but it was a futile effort. The spell was almost complete and the markings on the shore began to glow as the opening to Purgatory appeared where they had been.

Streams of black water raced past them and disappeared into the pit as other Leviathans were pulled in, but the Boss was still resisting. Gabriel’s chanting grew in volume and the Archangel began to shake as he struggled to force the Leviathan to retreat.

“You send me back… and he’s going with me…” the Leviathan snarled through gritted teeth. Black water was beginning to ooze out of the Vessel’s mouth and nose, but there was a trace of brilliant white light mix in with it.

Castiel’s Grace.

“Like hell he is!” Dean yelled. He surged forward as the Leviathan’s power finally broke and raced towards Castiel’s Vessel.

He stumbled on the edge of the pit and for a moment Sam was sure he was going to lose his brother. “Dean!” he shouted, racing forward even though he would be too late if Dean fell, but his brother regained his balance and continued towards Castiel.

By the time Dean reached the angel he was afraid that he was too late. Grace was pouring out of the Vessel, almost overwhelming the black water from the Leviathan. “Damnit, Cas! No, I am not losing you again!” He knew that there was nothing he could do to stop this, but he still wrapped an arm around Castiel’s Vessel, as if trying to hold the angel’s Grace in.

Castiel’s eyes suddenly flew open, wide and terrified, but it was only the angel visible in the blue showing through the outpouring of Grace. Castiel’s hand shot out and latched onto Dean’s left shoulder, directly over where his handprint was. Dean felt his knees buckle as an unbelievable amount of power surged through his body; the only thing keeping him upright was his own tight grip on the angel. Slowly, Castiel’s Grace began to retreat back into his Vessel, even as the Leviathan continued to pour out.

Sam watched the two of them for a moment, until he was sure that both Dean and Castiel weren’t in immediate danger, before focusing on Gabriel once again and he was moving before he had fully processed what he saw. Gabriel, driven down to one knee, his Grace flickering along his skin.

He was being pulled out of his Vessel, just as Castiel had been.

Sam reached out to grab onto the Archangel, blindly thinking, much like Dean had, that maybe a physical connection would be enough to pull the angel back, but Gabriel moved away from his touch. “Don’t,” he ground out, his jaw clenched tightly shut. “Don’t touch me.”

“You can’t do this by yourself!” Sam reached out, but once again the angel avoided his contact. “Damnit, Gabriel, I want to help!” he shouted in frustration.

“If you touch me, I’ll use your body as an anchor,” Gabriel warned, screwing his eyes shut as another burst of Grace escaped the confines of his Vessel. “There’d be a permanent link between us.”

“You are such a fucking idiot.” Sam stepped closer to Gabriel, pressing his body next to the angel before he could stand up to actually move away. “I don’t care.”

Gabriel whimpered at the contact, but he wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and pulled him closer. Sam gasped at the raw power that ran through him and he leaned heavily on Gabriel for support as it threatened to overwhelm him. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out as Gabriel’s hand on his hip seemed to grow hotter and hotter, as if it was burning through his clothes and flesh and down into his very soul. And maybe that was what was actually happening; if Gabriel needed an anchor for his Grace, anything was possible.

Sam vaguely recognized the sound of the Leviathan boss screaming as it was forced from Castiel’s Vessel, but although he could _hear_ it and _see_ the black water disappearing into the Pit none of it was really registering. His world had been condensed to _Gabriel_ , and the feeling of his hand burning into his hip, and nothing else seemed to matter.

The Leviathan gave a final shriek and Castiel finally collapse as he expelled the last of the black water from his body. Dean’s legs gave out from underneath him and he went down as well, just barely managing to brace Castiel against him before the angel hit the ground. Sam watched them carefully as the overwhelming power began to fade from his own body and he was finally able to focus on his surroundings again. Dean looked shaken but otherwise fine, and though Castiel wasn’t moving Sam took comfort in the fact that Dean wasn’t panicking over him.

Gabriel was a completely different story.

The Archangel was shaking slightly, and although he had quickly let go of Sam he kept returning to the hunter for a few moments before drifting away again, as if he couldn’t decide whether he actually wanted to touch him or not. Gabriel’s hand resting on his arm or stroking down his back felt divine and Sam couldn’t help but lean into the touch, taking comfort from the angel’s presence. But then Gabriel would move away again, leaving Sam feeling strangely alone and hollow. “Gabriel, what-”

“We should leave,” the Archangel interrupted. “The Leviathans are gone, but something else could be following that power back here.” He walked over to Dean and Cas, scuffing out the sigils that had formed the doorway to Purgatory as he stepped over them, and grabbed onto their shoulders. With a whisper of wings, the three of them disappeared.

Sam stared at the spot where they had just been in disbelief, stunned and hurt by Gabriel brushing him off yet again. Hadn’t he proven to the angel that he cared about him by now? What more would it take to get his point across?

He expected the angel to return in a minute or so after dropping off Dean and Castiel, no doubt still trying to avoid talking to him but Sam figured he could get some words in before Gabriel disappeared again. Except he never showed up. Sam waited with growing worry, pacing up and down the shoreline and listening carefully for the sound of wings. Gabriel had still been acting strangely towards him before he left, but Sam refused to believe that the Archangel would really just abandon him like that.

“Very funny, Gabriel!” Sam called after almost ten minutes of waiting. “If this is another one of your tricks, congratulations- it’s pretty friggen’ annoying!”

“Unfortunately, my dear, this is not one of his tricks.”

Sam spun around to face Aziraphale, who must have arrived sometime while he was shouting at the sky. “Then where the hell is he?” Sam asked, torn between anger and worry for the Archangel.

But Aziraphale didn’t answer him. He was staring at Sam with a look of open shock on his face. He motioned towards the hunter’s right hip, the same hip Gabriel had clung to and that Sam had unconsciously been rubbing with his own hand. “What did Gabriel do?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

 _“If you touch me, I’ll use your body as an anchor. There’d be a permanent link between us,”_ Gabriel had said. And the feeling of Grace burning through skin and clothes, raw power coursing through his body as _something_ was forged between them.

Sam being the key to restoring the Archangel’s Grace and Gabriel later misunderstanding what Dean had said. Gabriel telling Sam to stay away, to not touch him, and afterwards constantly flitting between contact and distance. Like he wanted the former, and had to force himself to step away.

“Sam?”

Sam stared down at where his hand continued to rub soothing circles over his throbbing hip as the pieces started to fall into place. His hand stilled for a brief moment before his fingers grasped the hem of his shirt and he carefully pulled it up.

There, partially visible above the waistline of his jeans, was a handprint, burnt into the skin of his hip. It was almost identical to Dean’s, except that Sam’s seemed to be a bit more defined, a bit more… permanent, although he couldn’t explain why he felt that way. But Dean’s was created out of necessity when Castiel pulled him from Hell; Sam had gone along willing, even if he hadn’t known exactly what he was getting himself into.

“He bonded to me, didn’t he?” Sam asked softly. “When he used me as an anchor during the spell… that bonded us.”

“That partially bonded you,” Aziraphale corrected. “Whatever happened in your dream started the process. Although considering how out-of-order you two are doing things, it’s not quite completed yet.”

Sam shrugged and pulled his shirt back down. “I don’t think Gabriel wants to complete it.”

“Oh my dear, of course he does!” Aziraphale said gently. “Gabriel’s just in a bit of a bad place. In his mind, he lost everything during the Apocalypse. Even the slightest doubt about your feelings towards him would be enough for him to distance himself, before he got hurt again.”

“But I tried talking to him! I tried and he just kept pushing me away!” Sam said. “Hell, I even let him use me as an anchor for his Grace and he _still_ ran away from me! I love the bastard, but how the fuck am I supposed to convince him of that?”

“Have you tried telling him that?”

“Of course I-” Sam cut off, thinking about it for a moment. It had been implied sure, and there was their teasing in the dream before they fell asleep… But Sam had never actually said it to him. “Oh.”

Aziraphale was smiling gently at him. “Even Gabriel will have a hard time arguing against a statement like that. All you have to do is talk to him, Sam.”

Which brought them back to Sam’s earlier, and still unanswered, question. “So where is he?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t he come back?”

“He’s at the bookstore, resting. He was still very weak when he set out, and he has all but drained his Grace now.”

For the first time Sam noticed the dark circles under Aziraphale’s tired eyes, the way his shoulders drooped with exhaustion. “Seems like he’s not the only one,” Sam said softly. “Anyway, we should get back. Knowing Gabriel, he’s probably butting heads with Crowley instead of actually resting.”

Aziraphale tensed slightly at his words. “I… I don’t believe that will be the case,” he said stiffly. “The demon is no longer welcome in my bookstore.”

“Wait, _what_?” Sam asked, but Aziraphale grabbed his shoulder and with the soft whisper of wings, they disappeared.

XXXXX

Dean had claimed the guest bedroom for Castiel as soon as they had landed. Gabriel had looked like he wanted to protest, but despite how exhausted the Archangel must have been he simply snapped his fingers and sprawled out on the couch. When Dean had finally finished wrestling Castiel up the stairs, he found the bed freshly made with sheets that looked like they belonged in a five-star hotel, not in the never-used guestroom of a dusty bookstore. And even though he wasn’t quite ready to trust the Archangel yet (despite Sam’s feelings towards him and yeah, not going there _ever_ ) he would admit that there were definite perks to having him around.

Castiel was startling pale against the bright red of the sheets, and if Dean hadn’t been continually checking his pulse he would have thought that he was dead for sure. It was disturbing to see Castiel like that, to see someone who had been so strong reduced to barely-alive unconsciousness. He just wanted his angel to wake up so they-

Dean tensed as he finally processed his thoughts. There it was again- _his_ angel. He didn’t have a claim on Castiel, and certainly didn’t have any sort of right to one either. Whatever his feelings for the angel might be- and there was no way he was going to admit anything on that front- there was a lot of history between them now. Dean was willing to put it in the past, but he had no idea how to even approach that conversation. Not when he had tried to _kill_ the angel while he was hyped-up on souls. When he had been so hypocritical, and hadn’t even tried to listen to Castiel’s reasoning.

With all of that to deal with… How could Cas ever want someone like him?

He sank down into the chair next to the bed, watching the slight rise and fall of his an- of his friend’s chest. Castiel was alive, which was more than he had ever dared to hope for, but Dean held no illusions about his condition. Before he had left Aziraphale had said something about being able to bolster Castiel’s Grace, but Gabriel had only softly told him that they’d have to wait and see what happened.

There wasn’t any sort of precedent for this, and while there was no way that Dean was just going to give up on Castiel… he knew that nothing was certain here.

“Why the hell did you tell him that!?”

“Because I thought he had a right to know what happened, that’s why!”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, and stood back up. Looked like Aziraphale had finally brought Sam back. And Sam was arguing with Bobby.

 _Loudly_.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean muttered as he stormed down the stairs. Sam and Bobby were glaring daggers at each other from across the room while a very tired, and very pissed off, Aziraphale stood between the two of them. Gabriel was still lying on the couch, but he was awake and watching the small group, his expression carefully neutral. “What the hell is doing on?” Dean snapped as he moved to stand next to Aziraphale, looking back and forth between Bobby and Sam.

“Bobby told Aziraphale about what Crowley’s really been up to,” Sam growled, hands clenched in fists at his side.

“Sam, calm the fuck down!” Dean said instantly because really, was Sam planning on _punching Bobby_ or something here?

Sam froze, looking between Dean and Bobby for a moment. He finally took a deep breath, fists unclenching, and although he still looked pissed off he at least didn’t seem so murderous anymore. “Sorry,” he muttered tiredly. “Just… been a long day.”

Dean nodded and made a mental note to figure out what the hell was up with his brother before turning to face Bobby. “Bobby, this true?”

“Yeah, it is,” Bobby said. He sounded pissed as well, but he at least seemed to be able to keep it relatively under control, unlike Sam. “That a problem?”

“Depends,” Dean said carefully. “Why’d you do it?”

“Because Crowley had been keeping him in the dark and I just figured if he was gonna be held prisoner in his own bookstore, he should at least know why,” Bobby snapped.

“And did you just miss the part where Crowley threatened to sic his Hellhound on us?” Sam asked. Though the question was harsh there was less anger behind it this time, for which Dean was grateful.

“I did tell Robert that I am perfectly capable of controlling the Hellhound,” Aziraphale pointed out coolly. “And with Gabriel helping you, Crowley should not be able to hurt you.”

“Who says I’ll stick around to save your asses?” Gabriel asked lazily from his spot on the couch. “Last I checked, I was only agreeing to help save Cassie.”

Dean glanced at Sam in surprise, because given the post-dreamsex cuddling he had walked in on earlier (and he _never_ wanted to think about that again) he had been pretty sure that Gabriel was going to be tagging along for at least a little while. But Sam was back to being downright _murderously_ pissed-off. He stormed over to Gabriel, yanking the startled Archangel off the couch and dragging him towards the front of the bookstore. “We need to talk. _Now_.”

Gabriel dug his heels in, effectively using his angelic strength to stop Sam in his tracks. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Sam whirled back around to face him just as Gabriel raised his fingers to snap. “Don’t you _dare_ think about flying away, or snapping me away or fucking _anything_ or I swear to God I will hunt you down and stab you in the heart with a fucking stake.”

“You know that won’t kill me,” Gabriel said with a smirk.

Sam smirked right back at him, and Dean slowly shifted away from the two of them because there was no way that this was going to end well. “I know it won’t kill you,” Sam said. “But I’d be willing to bet that it’ll hurt like a bitch anyway.”

Gabriel stared at Sam for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he relented and walked towards the front of the store. “Well, let’s get this over with then,” the Archangel called over his shoulder. Sam scowled, but followed him, leaving the other three alone in the backroom.

“Well, I’m going to go back up to Cas before the fireworks start,” Dean said quickly, already moving towards the stairs.

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Aziraphale said absently as he craned his neck to nervously keep an eye on Sam and Gabriel. “With your partial bond, it’s probably best not to stay away from him for too long right now.”

Dean barely caught the last comment, and by the time he had reached the guestroom he was too busy checking on Castiel to really think much about it.

XXXXX

“So Sammy, what did you want to talk about?” Gabriel asked. He snapped up a lollipop and began to suck on it, the innocent look on his face completely contrived.

Sam forced himself to look away from the almost obscene way that Gabriel was sucking on the lollipop. He knew the Archangel had to be doing it on purpose to distract him, but it wasn’t going to work this time. He was _pissed_ , and they were going to have this conversation no matter how hard Gabriel tried to avoid it.

He took a deep breath, deciding it was better to just get things over with. “So when you told me not to touch you, back at the reservoir, did you know it was because this would happen?” he asked, pulling his shirt up to reveal the handprint.

Gabriel stared at it for a moment, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out for it, but he quickly looked away. “I did warn you,” he said flippantly.

“Yeah, you did,” Sam said. “But what I don’t get is _why_. After what happened in the dreamscape-”

“This is a bit different from that, Sammy,” Gabriel interrupted. “Casual sex can’t even begin to compare to the weight of a mating bond.”

“Who said it was casual?” Sam asked.

Gabriel laughed. “Please. I know you only needed me back to save Castiel. I was an idiot for thinking you wanted anything else than that.”

“Dean probably only wanted you back to save Cas, but don’t you dare think that that’s all I wanted out of this!” Sam snapped.

“There’s no way you could have wanted _this_ , though!” Gabriel insisted angrily. “I forced it on you and I’m sorry for that but like I said, I warned you. But don’t interpret my feelings through it and tell me that you wanted it.”

“For fuck’s sake, you didn’t force anything on me!” Sam yelled. “I love you Gabriel, okay? And maybe you’d feel better if you could just run away and hide from it, but I’m pretty sure you feel the same so I don’t understand why the hell you think there’s a problem here!”

Gabriel froze and stared at Sam in shock. “Say that again.”

“The part where I called you an idiot, or the part where I said that I loved you?” Sam asked. “Because I do love you, Gabriel. And Dean would kill me for being such a chick about this, but I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since that second dream.”

Gabriel smirked. “The one with my wings?”

Sam laughed, even as his face flushed. “God, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You grooming me without knowing what you were doing? Of course not!” Gabriel said. His grin faded and he said, once again serious, “Are you sure about this, though? I mean Dean said-”

“Dean’s an idiot and I’m pretty sure he still sort of hates you,” Sam admitted. “I tried to explain things to you, but you kept ignoring me.”

“I thought you were just going to give excuses for tricking me,” Gabriel admitted as his face reddened as well. He reached out hesitantly towards Sam’s hip, where his shirt was still pulled up and the top of the handprint visible. “Can I…?”

Sam pulled up his shirt just a bit higher. “Go ahead.”

Gabriel reached out slowly, tracing the outline of the handprint with his fingers. It felt like little sparks dancing along Sam’s skin and he twitched, both wanting and dreading more contact. “Please,” he whispered, not sure what he was asking for, and Gabriel pressed his hand fully against his mark.

Sam inhaled sharply, arching his back as torrents of sensations and emotions washed over him. Dimly, he recognized that he must be feeling Gabriel through the partial bond, his joy and want and fucking hell, his _love_. But overpowering all of that was what felt like bolts of electricity running through his body, the roar of the sea echoing in his ears, the weightlessness of flight, the scorching heat of a thousand suns, and he trembled in the face of it all.

And then suddenly, there was nothing at all. Sam whimpered at the loss and slowly opened eyes that he hadn’t realized he had closed. Gabriel had taken several steps back and was watching him carefully. “Gabriel, what…?”

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Gabriel murmured. “The bond isn’t fully formed, and I… I didn’t realize it. My Grace was overwhelming you.”

“Oh.” He still felt slightly scrambled, and he wasn’t quite sure what all of this meant. “So, can we not touch at all now, or is it just where the handprint is?”

“Don’t worry, it should just be where the handprint is,” Gabriel said, but he wasn’t laughing or smiling as he said it, as if he wasn’t sure if that was true.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to put that theory to the test?”

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, before stepping closer to Sam again and raising his hand. “Let me know if this is too much, okay?” he said softly, before gently tracing his fingers along the edge of Sam’s jaw.

Sam could feel a faint spark under the Archangel’s touch, but it was nothing like what had happened when he touched the handprint. “I think we’re alright,” he murmured.

Gabriel trailed his fingers along Sam’s chin. “Glad to hear it.”

Sam ducked down and lightly grabbed one of Gabriel’s fingers between his teeth, sucking it back into his mouth. Gabriel groaned quietly and Sam smirked around the digit, tracing his tongue lightly along it. He let Gabriel pull it away, watching the Archangel’s dark eyes as he traced the outline of Sam’s lower lip. “God, the things you do to me…” he murmured, before leaning up to pull Sam into a fierce kiss.

Sam leaned down, grabbing Gabriel’s hip to pull him close and instinctively the Archangel responded in the same. Sam gasped as he was overwhelmed with sensations once more and quickly took a step back before it could become too much. “Sorry,” he said, breathing heavily.

Gabriel closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Not your fault, Sammy,” he said. “Shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away.”

“Right, and you’re just not going to let yourself get carried away ever again, is that it?” Sam asked. “Look, Aziraphale said something about the bond not really being complete. Something about us not doing things in the right order. If we complete the bond, will that stop this from happening?”

“In theory, yes,” Gabriel said. “But… I don’t know if there’s a way to complete the bond.”

“What? Why, because we did things ass-backwards?” Sam asked.

“That, and… Well, I’m not exactly pure angel anymore,” Gabriel said. “And you’re-”

“Let me guess,” Sam interrupted. “I’m not exactly human anymore, right?”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you _ever_ say that again,” he growled. “Your soul is so perfectly, _beautifully_ human, you have no idea. You’re just a bit… scrambled, right now, and the bond doesn’t know what to do with you.” He leaned back up to kiss Sam lightly. “I’ll find a way to fix things, Sam. I promise.”

Sam smiled slightly. “If you say so,” he said. He wasn’t sure how much Gabriel would be able to do, but he trusted the Archangel to try his best. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned towards the front windows, where he could just see Crowley standing in front of the building, staring at in shock. “Hey,” he said softly, directly Gabriel’s attention towards the demon. “Should we explain things to him?”

Gabriel shook his head. “He’s noticed the new wards, the ones that’ll keep him out, so I think he has an idea of what happened. And honestly right now, I don’t think I’d be able to protect you if he got angry. I’m far more tired than an Archangel should be.”

“Come on, you should rest then,” Sam said, grabbing Gabriel’s hand and gently leading him back into the backroom. Bobby and Aziraphale quickly glanced up as they entered and both visibly relaxed as they saw that Sam and Gabriel were on better terms.

Sam pushed Gabriel gently down onto the sofa, but Gabriel refused to let go of the hunter and Sam was pulled down on top of him. Sam sighed, but Gabriel just smiled up at him. “Stay with me?” he asked softly.

“I can’t. I was going to start researching how to finish the bond,” he said.

“Any books that Aziraphale has would be in dead languages you couldn’t even begin to understand,” Gabriel said. “And I know you’re tired as well. So stay here instead.”

“Gabriel…”

“Boy, neither of you are in any condition to do anything right now,” Bobby interrupted suddenly. “You both need sleep, and don’t you dare think about starting anything while I’m here.”

Sam’s face flushed, but Gabriel just laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything, Singer,” he said.

“I hate you,” Sam murmured, but he was already moving so Gabriel could curl up against him more comfortably.

Gabriel kissed the tip of his nose. “Sure you do, kiddo.”

“What about Dean and Cas?” Sam asked sleepily, his eyes already slipping closed.

“I’ll check up on them,” Aziraphale said gently. “You two should go to sleep.”

Bobby glanced over at Aziraphale as the two figures on the couch finally drifted off. “You need to rest as well,” he said.

Aziraphale busied himself with making another cup of tea. “I’m fine, my dear, really.”

“Right, of course you are,” Bobby said dryly. “Because it’s normal for angels to have shaky hands.”

Aziraphale quickly set down the teacup he had been holding, wincing as it rattled against the counter before he let go of it. “It’s nothing,” he insisted.

“Like hell it is,” Bobby said. “Get some sleep. You won’t be any use to Cas up there if you’re half-dead.”

Aziraphale scowled at him, but used a bit of his Grace to change one of the rickety kitchen chairs into an oversized armchair. He sank down into it, curling up slightly. “Wake me up if anything happens,” he ordered before closing his eyes and dozing off.

“Will do,” Bobby murmured as he returned to his book.

XXXXX

Dean was starting to think he was losing track of time while he sat at Castiel’s side. Either that or everyone else was simply refusing to leave him alone. One minute Sam would be there, trying to force him to eat something. Then Aziraphale or Gabriel would show up to do their strange angel-mojo to boost Castiel’s Grace. And Bobby would stop by to get away from the lovebirds downstairs.

All Dean knew was that it seemed like he never had a minute by himself and although part of him was grateful that they hadn’t forgotten about him and Cas, sometimes it really got on his nerves.

Like when Gabriel saw fit to stop by and bother him.

“So Sam still thinks that the bond not working is his fault, and Aziraphale and I spent most of the morning trying to convince him that it’s probably just because I’m technically a pagan god now but he went off on this whole quiet self-pity fest and wouldn’t let me try to cheer him up so-”

And really, this was far more information about whatever this magical bond was between his brother and Gabriel then he ever needed to know. “Look, don’t you have something else you could be doing?” he snapped. “Like, I don’t know, figuring out how to save your brother?”

Gabriel’s joking demeanor quickly faded and he glared at Dean. “Look, I know Sammy got all the brains in the family but even you can’t possibly be this dense. And I’m done trying to let you figure it out for yourself, so to put things as simply as possible, I was hoping you’d draw some parallels here because you have a bond with Castiel.”

“Well, yeah, I know that,” Dean said slowly. “I mean, there’s the handprint on my shoulder from when he pulled me from Hell, and he’s mentioned a bond between us once or twice-”

“You’re an idiot,” Gabriel interrupted. “This isn’t some residual thing from when he pulled you out of the Pit, at least not anymore.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked cautiously.

Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Father help me, how do you still not understand this? I’ve been talking to you about the _mating bond_ between Sam and I. I’m now telling you that your bond with Castiel is stronger than some left-over bit of magic. The only conclusion is, therefore…”

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed as he suddenly connected the pieces. “You think Cas and I have a-”

“A mating bond, yeah,” Gabriel said. “And since my attempts to ease you into this have evidently failed, let me spell things out for you. When Castiel grabbed onto you when the Leviathan was clinging onto his Grace, he must have strengthened the bond between the two of you because _nothing_ short of a mating bond, even just a partial mating bond, could have saved him like that. And the bond wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t want it on some level. That much I’ve figured out from my research with Sam.”

“No _fucking_ way,” was Dean’s immediate response because, his own questionable feelings aside, there was no way that Castiel had _wanted_ this to happen. “Look, maybe you’re just reading too much into things. There’s no way that Cas and I have a… a mating bond.”

“Look, deny it all you want. All I’m saying is that if it saved his life once, it might do it again,” Gabriel snapped. “Because there’s only so long that Zira and I will be able to boost his Grace. It’s already starting to work less than it was before. Either you try using the bond to save him, or you’re going to lose Castiel. And he may be your bonded, but he’s _my_ brother and I will break you if you let him die.”

Gabriel disappeared with a soft rustle of feathers and Dean buried his head in his hands. He felt sick, like his world had been turned upside down. Yeah, he cared about Castiel, probably more than he should care for an Angel of the Lord, but he had hurt Castiel. The angel probably didn’t even realize he was creating a mating bond at the time. There was no way that Castiel would want to be bonded to _him_ for eternity.

But if it would save Castiel… Dean glanced at the angel, still lying pale and motionless under the many blankets piled on the guest bed. Well, he’d try to use the bond. Just this once.

Dean rolled up his sleeve and carefully picked up Castiel’s hand, frowning at how cold it felt in his own. It scared him how quickly he was losing the angel, and if this actually worked he certainly wouldn’t complain. Before he could second guess himself he pressed Castiel’s hand against the handprint on his shoulder. He flinched at the feeling of energy sparking out from the point, but didn’t remove the angel’s hand. And for the first time since the reservoir Castiel moved, just shifting slightly in his sleep.

“C’mon you stupid bastard, wake up,” Dean muttered, pressing the hand tighter against his shoulder. Castiel murmured something unintelligible, but still didn’t wake up. “Fine, screw it.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth against the angel’s. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” he murmured against Castiel’s mouth as he kissed him gently, licking across the seam of the angel’s lips. “Wake up…”

Slowly, Castiel’s mouth began moving underneath his and Dean forced himself to pull back, kissing lightly at the corner of his mouth instead; he didn’t want the angel to wake up and find Dean’s tongue down his throat. “Dean…?”

And that was the hunter’s cue to pull away entirely. Castiel was just opening his eyes, blinking wearily against the lights. “Hey, Cas. C’mon, you with me?”

“Dean, I… What…?” Castiel rasped.

“Don’t try to talk, you’ve been out of it for a while,” Dean said. “Hold on, I’ll get you something to drink-”

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s shoulder, stopping him from moving. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please.”

Dean sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he stammered. “Just… Gabriel! Get your feathered ass up here!” he yelled, hoping the Archangel would hear him.

“No reason to yell, Deano. Finally come to your senses about the bo-” Gabriel stopped as he saw Castiel lying awake in the bed. “Hey, Castiel! Get enough beauty sleep?” he asked, but despite the flippant tone it was obvious that there was true happiness behind his words.

“I do not understand,” Castiel admitted quietly, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s innocent confusion.

“It’s nothing important, Cas,” Dean said. To Gabriel, he added, “Could you get some water or something for him?”

“Sure thing.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, a water bottle appearing in his hands. He helped Castiel sit up, as the angel still refused to let go of Dean’s shoulder, and held the water up to his mouth so he could drink. “How are you feeling?” he said when Castiel was done drinking.

“Very… drained,” Castiel said after a moment’s pause.

Gabriel chuckled. “That’s to be expected. Your Grace is almost non-existent, bro. But now that you’re awake, give it a couple of days and you should be back to your old self.”

Castiel nodded and Gabriel gently maneuvered him back down against the pillows. “I’ll leave you two alone for a little while,” the Archangel said, and disappeared.

Dean didn’t know what to say now that Gabriel had left. He was still reeling after finding out about the bond between them, and he had never quite figured out how he was going to apologize to Castiel. He was surprised when Castiel let go of his shoulder and said softly, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what?” Dean asked, because although there were certainly things that would warrant an apology he didn’t know what exactly Castiel was talking about.

“For not listening to you about Crowley,” Castiel said, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding looking at the hunter. “And for… for Sam.”

Dean sighed and looked away from the angel. “Yeah, well, you should be. But the way I see it, you’ve paid in full for your mistakes so… We’re good.”

“I see,” Castiel said flatly, still not looking at Dean. “You should get some sleep. I’m sure you haven’t been resting as you should.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry. That was… Out of line.”

Normally Dean would have argued with Castiel, or anyone, who had tried to force him to get some sleep. But there was something about the way Castiel had apologized that rubbed him the wrong way, that made the angel seem smaller and more hesitant when he should be strong and powerful. So instead he found himself saying, “No, it’s… you’re right. I should get some sleep. I’ll send Gabriel back up to watch you, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Alright.”

Dean watched the angel carefully for a moment but Castiel simply continued to stare at the ceiling, ignoring the hunter completely.

The others looked up as he walked slowly downstairs. “Didn’t expect to see you down here so soon,” Sam said cautiously.

Dean shrugged. “Cas told me to get some sleep,” he said evasively. Swallowing his pride, he asked, “Gabriel, will you… Could you go back up and watch him? He doesn’t seem really okay yet.”

“He just woke up and his bondmate is running away, of course he’s not okay,” Gabriel said as he stood. “But yeah, I’ll head upstairs, _again_ , and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Dean bit back the snarky remark he wanted to say to the Archangel, instead simply muttering a simple, “Thanks” as the Archangel disappeared upstairs.

“How’s he doing, anyway?” Bobby asked. There was no need to specify who he was talking about.

“He’s alright,” Dean said as he flopped down onto the now-abandoned couch. “Gabriel said he was almost out of mojo, but that he should get it back. He… apologized. For everything.”

“Good.”

“And I told him we were fine,” Dean added, watching Bobby and Sam carefully. Although he was fairly certain that they too had at least mostly forgiven the angel, none of them had ever explicitly spoken about it.

But Bobby simply repeated, “Good” and went back to reading his book.

Sam smiled gently at him and added, “He may have fucked up, but he did sacrifice himself to save us. Twice. And considering you’ve bonded with him-”

Dean held up a hand to cut off his brother. “Seriously, no more chick-flick moments,” he said quickly. That was a conversation he didn’t need to have with Sam. _Ever_. “Now I need sleep, food, and a beer. Not necessarily in that order.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go see if there’s any food left in Aziraphale’s kitchen, otherwise you’re gonna have to wait for Gabe to snap something up for you.”

“Fine by me,” Dean said as he stretched out on the couch. “Where is the angel, anyway?”

“Reinforcing the wards on this place,” Sam said. “Crowley started trying to break in yesterday.”

Dean cracked open an eye at that. “Crowley’s trying to break in?”

“Yeah, but Gabriel’s been helping with the wards. He’s not going to get in,” Sam said. “So get some sleep. I’ll wake you for food in a couple of hours.”

Dean scowled and rolled over, facing the back of the couch rather than his brother. He heard Sam chuckle, but Dean had to grudgingly admit that he was exhausted and it wasn’t long before he was asleep.

Sam grabbed a new book from the top of one of many stacks and sat down in a vacant chair. Unlike Bobby, who was simply going through Aziraphale’s extensive collection for fun, Sam had been forcing his way through ancient texts on a variety of bonding rituals, trying to see if there was any way to fix his partial bond with Gabriel. Even with the Archangel and Aziraphale helping it was a slow, tedious process and Sam was getting sick of it.

He had barely gotten a few pages into his book when Gabriel reappeared beside him. “Everything alright with Cas?” Sam asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “He’s no worse than he was before. Aziraphale finished checking the wards and offered to play babysitter instead of me.” He plucked the book from Sam’s hand, setting it back on the table and straddling Sam’s hips. Bobby coughed pointedly, and Gabriel snapped his fingers, causing the older hunter to disappear. Muffled curses floated down the stairs, revealing exactly where Bobby had been sent to.

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Sam complained.

“Well, I want to spend time with you and he was just going to disapprove,” Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows to indicate exactly _how_ he wanted to spend their time.

Sam sighed. “Dean’s sleeping on the couch,” he pointed out.

Gabriel glanced over at the couch. “So?”

“So I’m not doing anything with you when he could wake up any minute!” Sam said. “And don’t you dare think of snapping him upstairs as well; he only just fell asleep.”

There was a rustle of wings and Sam suddenly found himself in an unrecognizable bedroom, lying down on the softest sheets he had ever felt with Gabriel still straddling him. “You never said I couldn’t snap you away,” Gabriel said with a grin.

Sam sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile slightly. “And what if something happens to Cas and they can’t find us?” he asked. That was the main reason they hadn’t done this before. With Gabriel fully rested once again, he was far more powerful than Aziraphale and was really the only one who would be able to pull Castiel back if his Grace fell too much further.

“Castiel is going to be fine, at least for the immediate future,” Gabriel said, already working to undo the buttons on Sam’s shirt. “Now that he’s awake he’s far less likely for anything to happen and, on the off chance that something does Aziraphale should have the sense to call for me. So relax.”

Sam smiled up at Gabriel, his hands straying to the Archangel’s hips and pulling him close. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Gabriel hummed in agreement, leaning down to suck on Sam’s now-exposed collarbone.

Yeah. Sam couldn’t really complain about this.

 


	6. Part V

Dean woke to the smell of bacon, which as far as ways to wake up go wasn’t quite so bad.

Falling on the floor because he forgot he was on a couch? Yeah, that one pretty sucked.

Dean groaned as he sat up on the floor, blinking wearily as he looked around the room. He was alone, which would certainly explain the lack of laughter at his not-so-graceful tumble off the couch. He could hear Bobby and Aziraphale talking upstairs, but there was no sign of Gabriel and Sam. There was, however, a bacon cheeseburger sitting on the kitchen table with a note next to it.

_Deano-_

_Kidnapped your brother. I’ll spare you the details, but it’s what you should be doing with Cassie. Here’s a burger, now go back upstairs._

_-Gabriel_

Dean scowled at the note and crumbled it up, but grabbed the burger- a double bacon cheeseburger, and if Gabriel kept using his powers like this he wasn’t going to complain about him sticking around- as he made his way back upstairs. Bobby and Aziraphale looked up from whatever book they had been discussing as he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. Castiel was asleep again, and though there was a bit more color in his face Dean instantly started to assume the worst. “How is he?” he asked, setting the burger aside in favor of checking the angel’s pulse.

“He’s fine, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him. “Tired, and his Grace is still weak, but he just needs rest. It’ll help having you around as well.”

"Yeah. Right, of course," Dean muttered. "Because of the... the bond." The stupid incomplete mating bond that had somehow become the only thing that could save Castiel. Never mind the fact that the angel might not even want the bond to exist in the first place, that Dean was the last person who deserved a connection like that.  
  
He sighed. When did his life become such a friggen' soap opera?  
  
"Well, I think we'll leave you two alone then," Aziraphale said. He nudged Bobby, who stood up as well and followed the angel out of the room.  
  
Dean picked up the burger and took a small bite, forcing himself to eat it despite his sudden loss of appetite. He didn’t remember when he had last actually eaten something. Looking after Castiel was a lot like looking after Sam; they came first, and food certainly wasn’t one of his priorities.

Castiel stirred in his sleep, and Dean watched the angel carefully as he slowly woke up. Castiel blinked slowly and looked around the room with some surprise. “You alright?” Dean asked casually, resisting the urge to feel Castiel’s forehead or check his pulse.

“I… I thought it had been a dream,” Castiel admitted quietly. “You. And Gabriel. And… everything.”

“You thought you were back with the Leviathans?” Dean asked. Castiel didn’t answer, and he took that as an affirmative. “Were you conscious? For that whole time?”

Castiel was silent for a long moment and Dean instantly began to curse himself for trying to pry so soon after the angel woke up. “Not as you would consider it,” Castiel finally said, and Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. “I was not aware of what was going on around my Vessel most of time, but I was aware of the Leviathans surrounding me inside of it. I don’t even know how much time has passed since…”

“It’s been about a month, month and a half,” Dean told him when it became clear that Castiel wasn’t going to finish that thought. “Sam and I had some problems with the Leviathans right after everything went down, then we holed up in Montana for a couple of weeks, mostly ‘cause I had a busted leg. Been just about a week since we got rid of the Leviathans, and ‘bout a week and a half since you saved our asses from the Boss.”

“I see,” Castiel said. “How… How have you and Sam been?”

Dean shrugged. “Alright, I guess,” he lied. It was easier than admitting how messed up he had been at first, easier than explaining how he hadn’t really handled anything. “Sam seems to be pretty happy with Gabriel, so I guess that’s alright. Still not sure how he got brought back, but I guess we can’t really complain, considering… well, everything.”

“It was me.”

Castiel had spoken so quietly that, at first, Dean wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. “What?”

“I brought Gabriel back,” Castiel said, once again staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Dean. “Before I… before I went back to you. I knew that, if something remained behind, as the Leviathans did, he would be able to send them back.”

“Yeah, well, no offense Cas, but you did a shit job at bringing him back,” Dean said. “He was unconscious until Sam and I got here a week ago. If Sam hadn’t been having these freaky joined-dreams with him he probably wouldn’t have ever woken up.”

“I did my best, but everything I had taken in from Purgatory was wearing me down,” Castiel said apologetically. “I did instruct Gabriel to find you and Sam. Perhaps that is why, in his unconscious state, he unknowingly reached out and created a link with Sam’s dreams once he was strong enough to do so?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean muttered.

Castiel said nothing and the two fell into an awkward silence. Dean shifted on the edge of the bed, debating whether it would be better to stay where he was or move to the chair. Or move downstairs. He wasn’t used to things being weird between them, and he wasn’t sure what to do to change that. He knew at some point they’d have to actually talk about what happened, and about this mating bond between them, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“Hey, do you, uh, want something to eat maybe? Or some more water?” Dean asked lamely, most just to break the silence between them.

“Thank you, but I am fine,” Castiel said. “I… I think I will perhaps try to sleep some more. I am still very tired.”

Dean’s stomach twisted at that because seriously, angels should _not_ get tired. “Yeah, okay then,” he said. “I’ll uh… I guess I’ll see what the others are up to, then.”

Castiel said nothing, simple continued to stare up at the ceiling, an unreadable expression on his face. Dean hesitated in the doorway, watching the angel for a long moment, and when Castiel finally succumbed to sleep he found himself walking back into the room and sitting in the chair next to the bed. He knew he didn’t _have_ to stay and watch Castiel sleep, but… maybe it was his attempt to make up for all the times the angel did the same to him.

Or at least, that was the story he was going to stick with.

Stupid, _friggen’_ mating bonds.

XXXXX

Sam was pretty sure he fell asleep with Gabriel in a luxury bed, naked and with the Archangel curled around him in like an oversized cat. And while he knew that he wasn’t still completely right in the head, he was pretty sure he could at least remember where he had fallen asleep. So it was understandable that he was a bit surprised to wake up back in Aziraphale’s bookstore, fully clothed, stretched out on the old couch and completely alone.

“Gabriel?” he called out, hoping that the Archangel was nearby.

There was no response.

At least, not from Gabriel.

“Sorry, Sammy. Little Gabey isn’t here,” Lucifer said from his perch on the far armrest of the couch. “He’s never been here.”

Sam ignored him, instead sitting up and craning his neck. Maybe Gabriel was in the front of the store, reinforcing Aziraphale’s wards.

“He’s just been in your head, Sammy,” Lucifer continued. “Don’t you remember? Crowley got to you and Dean, wanted to force you to go after the Leviathans. Aziraphale found you two and brought you and Bobby here for safety.”

And that… that wasn’t true. Because there were those dreams, and Castiel was back because Gabriel had saved him…

“Oh, did you think that the dreams were real?” Lucifer said with a laugh. “Just another little gift from me. And really, how could Castiel have survived everything? He’s dead, just like Gabriel is.”

Sam couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing Lucifer to go away. He thought that Lucifer was lying and hell, he _wanted_ every word of it to be lies more than anything else. But he remembered how real it had felt when he followed “Dean” to that warehouse, how hard it was to tell the fake-Dean from the real one. He dug his thumb desperately into his palm, but the wound had finally healed over and he barely felt a twinge, not nearly enough for Lucifer to disappear.

That is, if Lucifer wasn’t actually the reality. If he wasn’t really telling the truth about everything.

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder and instantly started, scrambling to move away from it. He fell off the edge of the couch, hitting the ground hard and wincing in pain. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Kiddo, what…?”

Except that wasn’t Lucifer who spoke. Sam cracked open an eye, staring up at Gabriel warily. He glanced over at the far end of the couch, where Lucifer was still perched, and bit his lip. “Gabriel, are you…” He glanced back towards the couch. “Lucifer. He said that you… And I don’t know…”

Gabriel’s eyes softened as he realized what was happening. “Sammy, it’s me. I’m the real one,” he said gently.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Lucifer said casually. “If he was real, you wouldn’t have woken up here, would you?”

“Why am I here?” Sam demanded desperately to Gabriel. “I wasn’t here before. You snapped me away and… Didn’t you?” He was on the verge of complete panic. He fumbled for the knife that he usually had on him, but it wasn’t there and he now had no way of causing enough pain to reveal which Archangel was the illusion.

Gabriel caught his wrist and Sam’s breath hitched at very faint sparks that danced out from that point of contact. “Sam, I’m sorry,” he said softly. His other hand darted out, pressing against the handprint on Sam’s right hip. The hunter gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head as he was overwhelmed with emotions and sensations. _This_ was real, Gabriel was real, and he… they…

Gabriel’s Grace left him in a rush and Sam collapsed against the couch, his vision wavering as his body tried to adjust to the sudden influx and loss of power. “Sam? Sam, are you with me?” Sam turned in the vague direction of Gabriel’s voice, silently seeking confirmation that the Archangel really was still there. Gabriel cupped Sam’s face in his hands, kissing him lightly. “You alright?”

“Been better.” Sam blinked, his vision slowly clearing, and glanced towards the end of the couch where Lucifer had been sitting. It was now empty. “’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Gabriel assured him. “If anything, this is my fault. I left to make sure that the Leviathans were really all gone. Should have known that that would leave you… vulnerable.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “You can’t protect me from my own mind, Gabe.”

“Well, I should be able to,” Gabriel muttered. “The bond should be enough to at least stop these hallucinations of yours. ‘Cause you haven’t been having as many recently, have you?” Sam shook his head. “That’s all thanks to me. If I hadn’t gone running away just now, this never would have happened.”

“As nice of a thought as it is, I doubt you’re going to be able to stick around all the time,” Sam pointed out glumly.

“Once we complete the bond, we shouldn’t have to worry about being separated,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah, _if_ we ever complete it,” Sam said. “We’re still no closer to finding a damn way to do that.”

Gabriel flushed slightly and looked away. “There… may be a way to complete it,” he admitted quietly.

“What? Wait, I thought you didn’t know if there was a way to fix this!”

“I was hoping we’d find a different solution,” Gabriel told him. “Because this one… you’re not going to like it.”

“Well what is it?” Sam demanded.

“I’m part pagan now, Sam,” Gabriel reminded him. “And with your history… There’s only one thing that’ll work.” Sam inhaled sharply; he already knew what the Archangel had in mind before he said it. “Has to be a blood ritual, kiddo.”

Sam breathed out slowly, trying to slow down his racing heart. Blood rituals didn’t have to mean what they meant with Ruby, so he still hesitantly asked, “What sort of ritual are we talking?”

“Mutual consumption of each other’s blood,” Gabriel said, his voice soft and apologetic.

Sam started shaking and Gabriel went to hold him, but the hunter stood quickly and moved out of his reach. “I… Gabriel, I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

“It won’t be like drinking demon blood, Sam,” Gabriel assured him. “No addictions, no freaky powers. At least, none that aren’t the direct result of the bond instead of the blood.”

“Like what?” Sam asked, because while he could appreciation there being no addiction this was the first he was hearing about strange, new powers as a result of the bond.

“Well there’d be a stronger connection between us, wouldn’t there?” Gabriel said. “So there’d be a lot of emotional transference and you’d be able to withstand exposure to my Grace. Probably some telepathy as well-”

“Whoa, hold on,” Sam interrupted. “Telepathy?”

“Yeah, you know. Reading minds, sharing thoughts,” Gabriel said with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. “Makes sex pretty interesting, let me tell you.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t just spring something like that on me and justify it by saying that it’ll make for interesting sex!”

Gabriel’s smiled faded slowly. “You aren’t… You aren’t second-guessing this, are you?”

Sam sighed and sank back down onto the couch. He looked up at Gabriel and tugged the Archangel down next to him. “I’m just… I don’t like this,” he admitted, shifting so he was leaning against Gabriel. “It’s not that I don’t want it, or that I don’t trust you, but my experiences with drinking blood have been… Well, you know.”

“I know, Kiddo, believe me, I know,” Gabriel said as he wrapped an arm around Sam. “And if there was another way I wouldn’t suggest it. But you said it yourself, we haven’t found anything. And honestly, I doubt we will. This may be our only option.”

Sam bit his lip in indecision. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Gabriel, but… “It’s a lot to take in at once,” he admitted quietly, apologetically.

“We don’t really have the time to do the ritual right now anyway,” Gabriel pointed out, his hand softly stroking through Sam’s hair. “So in the meantime, we’ll keep looking through Zira’s books, see if we can’t find another option.”

Sam closed his eyes and allowed the Archangel’s gentle touch to slowly calm him down. He hated himself for being so afraid of doing the ritual. He trusted Gabriel; sometimes it surprised him just how much he trusted Gabriel, considering everything that the former Trickster had put him through in the past. But he honestly loved the Archangel… just apparently not enough to do _this_ for him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam murmured.

“Not your fault,” Gabriel told him immediately. That didn’t stop Sam from cursing himself for trusting Ruby as he had, and cursing the scars that she had left with him.

XXXXX

It was, ironically enough, the silence that bothered him the most.

Castiel had never really been one for conversation, but now he avoided talking as much as possible. If Dean asked him a direct question he would respond, but apart from that he kept silent. It made things unbelievably frustrating, because although Dean could understand that Castiel was struggling with what happened and what he did, the hunter had no way to help his friend without any sort of information.

“So, how exactly did everything go down?” Dean asked casually one day. He was leaning back in the chair next to the bed; Castiel was staring up at the ceiling, as he had been doing since he first woke up a couple of days earlier.

“I don’t understand.”

“You know,” Dean said. “You and Crowley. Your little… deal. How did that all come about?” Dean knew he was taking a risk with asking about this. Castiel had been more or less complacent since waking up, if rather distant; the last thing he wanted was for his prying to finally be the one thing that caused the angel to snap.

Castiel was silent for a long moment and Dean held his breath, waiting to see if the angel would even respond.

“He approached me,” Castiel finally said.

“How?” Dean asked, when it became clear that the angel wasn’t going to elaborate. “Didn’t think demons could get into Heaven.”

“I was… I was on Earth at the time,” Castiel admitted quietly.

“You were on Earth and never came to…” Dean cut off suddenly, not wanting his words to upset the angel any more but he was hurt that Castiel had never taken the time to stop by while he was at Lisa’s. He had accepted that the civil war in Heaven had taken up all of Castiel’s time, but if the angel was on Earth and still didn’t bother to see him…

“I did go to you, Dean,” Castiel said, knowing what the hunter had been about to say. “This was immediately after Raphael had beaten me and laid down his ultimatum and you were my first choice for help. But you were still only beginning to settle into your life with Lisa. I was afraid that, if I revealed myself to you, it would ruin your only chance at happiness.” For the first time, he glanced over at Dean. “You had sacrificed so much already. I couldn’t ask you to give up even more.”

“That should have been my decision to make!”

Castiel looked away. “I know. And I am sorry.”

Dean deflated slightly at the angel’s words. He wasn’t really angry, but he had always assumed that Castiel hadn’t thought he would be of much help. Finding out that the angel had instead been considering Dean’s own happiness and well-being changed everything. “Jesus Christ,” the hunter muttered, running a hand over his face. “You never told me-”

“I did not want you to know,” Castiel said. “By the time you had started hunting again with Sam, it had been a considerable amount of time since Crowley had approached me. I was suspicious of his offer at first, as I cannot make a normal deal with him, and even after he gave me specifics I was hesitant. I knew it would take months for his plan to succeed, and I needed help immediately. But he gave me souls then and there, and I assumed that I would be able to play him rather than falling in line with his plan.”

“Yeah well, guess you did play him in the end,” Dean said, reverting to sarcasm rather than admitting that he felt guilty as hell. If he had _listened_ to Cas about this before, if he had tried to understand why the angel didn’t immediately go to him for help, maybe things would have turned out differently.

“If I hadn’t, Crowley would have no doubt found a way to cross me.”

“Which is why you don’t work with demons, Cas!” Dean snapped, choosing to respond with anger rather than admit his growing guilt and confusion with the situation. “I don’t care if you thought you were protecting me, you should have come to me for help anyway!”

“Who are you to decide whether it is right to make deals with demons?” Castiel asked, his eyes flashing with anger for the first time since he had woken up. “You, Bobby, Sam- all you do is make deals and work with demons. Why am I ostracized for doing the same?”

“Because we didn’t go nuclear and almost end the world!” Dean yelled.

“No, your deal just led to the breaking of the first seal, and Sam’s workings with Ruby to the breaking of the last,” Castiel snapped. “You preach about the importance of free will, but only if it suits your own goals. How can you damn me for what I did if I was only following what your family seems to do so well?”

Dean reeled back, as if Castiel had physically slapped him, and fled the room without saying another word.

Sam and Gabriel looked up from where they were curled together on the couch as he stormed down the stairs. “Where are you going?” Sam called out as Dean hurried past them.

“Out,” Dean said tersely, making a beeline for the door of the bookstore.

“Are you forgetting that Crowley’s out there, and still probably pissed at all of us?”

Dean paused for a moment, turning around quickly to snag the demon-killing knife off of a table. “I’ll be ready for him,” he said, flashing the knife so Sam could see it. 

He saw Gabriel quickly whisper something to Sam, and by the time Dean had turned back around Gabriel was standing in front of the door, blocking his path. “Sorry, Deano. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Get outta my way, Gabriel,” he growled.

The Archangel smirked coldly. “Sorry. Can’t let my mate’s brother go off and get killed.”

Dean held up the knife again. “Crowley’s not going to kill me. Not as long as I have this.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam returning with Bobby, while soft footsteps overhead indicated that Aziraphale had been sent up to Castiel.

“Oh please,” Gabriel said with a snort of derision. “That knife would only work if Crowley had ever been human.”

“’Course he was human, what else would he have been?” Dean asked. “You still scrambled from your resurrection, or what? Bobby found out all about his human life over in Scotland. Hell, we even found his bones!”

“Didn’t you ever stop to think about why Crowley has such a strong relationship with Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked irritably. “Aziraphale isn’t one to trust a demon easily, and Crowley isn’t the type of demon to actively seek a friendship with an angel. The bond that the two of them have was built through long years of both accidental encounters and purposefully undermining the other until it became apparent that it was easier to simply work around each other. Even after that, it would have taken centuries for them to progress past that point and become friends, let alone part-time lovers.”

“So what the hell are you saying?” Dean demanded.

“I’m saying that none of that is possible if Crowley had really died in the late 1600’s,” Gabriel told him. “And I may have run into him a couple of times during the 14th century anyway.”

“Then what is he?” Bobby asked, still standing a cautious distance away with Sam.

Gabriel glanced quickly over at Bobby, as if he hadn’t realized that the other two hunters were standing there, and said, “He’s one of the Fallen.”

“You mean to tell me that that son of a bitch used to be an angel?” Dean yelled.

Gabriel nodded. “Still want to go outside and face him?” he asked. “Or do you maybe want to start explaining what the hell happened between you and my brother?”

“We fought.”

“Right, I kinda figured that,” Gabriel said sarcastically. “What about?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Dean asked.

“Because right now your partial bond with Cas is probably the only thing keeping him alive,” Gabriel told him. “So if either of you two idiots did something to jeopardize that, I need to know so I can try to find some way to keep him from dying!”

There was a quiet flutter of wings and Aziraphale appeared next to Gabriel and Dean. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Gabriel,” the angel said, eyeing Dean coolly. “The mating bond has been rejected, though on whose part or for what reason I don’t know.”

“So what?” Dean scoffed, trying to hide and suppress the little quiver of fear that Aziraphale’s words had caused.

“I don’t know what history you have with Castiel,” Aziraphale said, his voice dangerously quiet. “But he is my brother, and for better or for worse he has formed a partial mating bond with you. A bond which wouldn’t exist unless, on some level, you had accepted it. By rejecting it, you may very well have just signed his death sentence.”

“Like you’re one to talk about abandoning others,” Dean said. “Crowley stop trying to beat down your door yet? ‘Cause I may not trust the bastard, but what you did? That was cold and believe me, I know all about abandoning dear friends.”

In a flash Aziraphale had Dean pinned against the wall. Gabriel moved slightly, as if going to pull him away, but didn’t actually try to stop anything. “Don’t you _ever_ speak about my relationship with Crowley again,” Aziraphale hissed, his eyes blazing with anger. “Our situations are _nothing_ alike, do you hear me?”

“Alright, Zira, that’s enough,” Gabriel said. He pulled Aziraphale away from Dean, but the hunter apparently wasn’t ready to let things go. Dean lashed out, his fist colliding squarely with Aziraphale’s jaw. The angel’s head snapped to the side, but it was Dean who was in pain, cradling his fist to his chest even as he glared at Aziraphale.

Bobby and Sam surged forward, grabbing onto Dean and pulling him away from Aziraphale before the angel could retaliate; even if Aziraphale seemed too surprised to do anything, they weren’t going to take any chances of Dean doing something else. Gabriel, who had managed to keep hold of the other angel, quickly snapped his fingers and the two of them disappeared.

“What the hell were you thinking, you idjit?” Bobby growled, finally letting go of Dean and spinning him around so he was facing them.

“I was thinking I didn’t need some dick angel up in my face,” Dean said, staring steadfastly at a shelf of books instead of looking at either Bobby or Sam.

“Yeah, well that ‘dick angel’ ain’t half bad, if you pull your head out of your ass long enough to talk to him,” Bobby said. “Not to mention he’s the only reason Cas and Gabriel are still alive. Seems to me you owe him a hell of a lot, and maybe you shouldn’t go around punching him in the face!”

“We done here?” Dean asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“You wanna explain what the hell is going on with you and Cas?” Bobby asked.

“No sir,” Dean said, still avoiding looking at the older hunter.

Sam gently grabbed Bobby’s shoulder. “Let it go, Bobby,” Sam said quietly. He knew his brother, and he knew that pushing the issue now would only do more harm than good.

Bobby nodded and stepped back enough for Dean to maneuver past him, disappearing into the depths of the bookstore. “Someone should make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Bobby murmured.

Sam snorted. “You wanna get punched in the jaw as well, be my guest,” he said. “Dean just needs a few hours to calm down, then we can try to get through to him.”

Dean made himself scarce for the rest of the day, avoiding anyone who dared to venture near him. Even Aziraphale and Gabriel stayed upstairs and out of the way, leaving Sam and Bobby alone to continue their reading and research in tense silence, both waiting for the other shoe to drop and shit to hit the fan all over again.

Gabriel finally showed up later that night, collapsing on the couch and wearily snapping up plates of food. “Sorry for the late dinner, but things were pretty touch and go for a while,” he said tiredly.

Sam set his book aside and joined his lover on the couch. “What happened?” he asked, pulling Gabriel towards him until the Archangel was leaning against him.

“Like Aziraphale said, they’ve rejected the mating bond,” Gabriel said.

“Which means what, exactly?” Bobby asked, grabbing one of the sandwiches off of the plate in front of him.

“Okay, bad analogy time,” Gabriel said. “Imagine you loved someone. And I mean _really_ loved someone. Loved them enough that the two of you decided to get huge matching tattoos that were big enough that you had have multiple appointments to finish them. Now imagine that somewhere between Appointment A and Appointment Z you both decided that maybe you didn’t really love your partner that much. You’d both still have the partially-finished tattoos, right? You’d try to ignore it, pretend it didn’t matter or wasn’t important, but it would still be there and everyone who saw it would know what had happened.”

“So you’re saying that Dean and Cas are walking around with giant, unfinished tattoos?” Sam asked slowly, trying to follow this analogy.

“Yeah, except in their case Cas is the pining lover who literally wastes away after being rejected,” Gabriel told him. “It’s rare for mating bonds to be rejected, but when they are there aren’t any real side-effects. Like with the tattoos- it’s embarrassing to have them, but they don’t hurt you. Except Castiel’s Grace is tethered to Dean. After everything that happened to him, Castiel can’t fully support his Grace on his own; he needs Dean there to help anchor it. With the mating bond rejected, his Grace doesn’t have any support.”

“Anything you can do to stop it?” Bobby asked.

Gabriel sighed. “Not much. I can do the little trick Aziraphale used to bolster my Grace before Sammy fixed me. Might keep Cas alive ‘til the end of the week, but he’s worse off than I was. And considering I was dead, that’s saying something.”

Sam shivered at the words and pulled Gabriel closer to him. “Dean won’t let that happen,” he said quietly. “There’s no way he’d just lose Cas again.”

“Dean’s made it pretty clear that he’s not happy about the mating bond with my brother,” Gabriel pointed out, a bit bitterly. “And even if Dean does pull his head out of his ass, they’ve _both_ rejected it. Castiel needs to accept the bond as well, and he’s even more stubborn than Dean is sometimes.”

Bobby sighed, setting the rest of his sandwich down. “Then you two idjits have your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

Gabriel raised his head to look at the older hunter. “How so?”

“Way I see it, you need to go talk to Cas ‘bout what happened and you-” Bobby pointed at Sam. “-need to talk some sense into your brother.”

“And what’re you going to be doing?”

“Distracting Aziraphale so he doesn’t go and kill Dean for punching him earlier,” Bobby said.

Gabriel laughed. “Please. I doubt Aziraphale would ever be able to hurt anyone. Not saying that he’s always the nicest, but he’s too polite to do anything at this point.” He burrowed deeper against Sam, his eyes slipping closed before asking, “We doing this now then?”

“To be honest I doubt you’re capable of holding a coherent conversation for much longer,” Sam said teasingly, but the smile quickly faded from his face and he sighed. “How long can Cas hold on for?”

“Depends on how stubborn he is to live,” Gabriel said with a slight shrug. “But like I said, given his current mood and the limited help Aziraphale and I can give him, not any longer than the end of the week, so maybe five days, tops.”

Sam bit his lip, thinking carefully. He hadn’t seen Castiel since the reservoir. Although he had forgiven the angel, the last thing he needed was for Cas to start feeling guilty… or for Lucifer to show up when they were trying to talk. The point was that he _did_ forgive Castiel for what happened, and the last thing he wanted was for the angel to die now. But with how high emotions were still running, and with how exhausted Gabriel looked... “Can it wait until tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly. “You know, give everyone some time to cool down and think things through?”

“As long as Bobby runs interference on Aziraphale in the meantime then yeah, we can wait until the morning,” Gabriel said, with a pointed look at the older hunter. “He’s upstairs right now.”

Bobby rolled his eyes, but stood and made his way towards the stairs. “Whatever you idjits are planning on getting up to, I don’t want to know about it.”

Gabriel smirked at Sam, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, but Sam just laughed and shook his head. “C’mon Gabe, you’d fall asleep half way through. Let’s just call it a day, okay?”

“Would not,” the Archangel muttered, but he had already snapped his fingers again, enlarging the couch just enough for Sam to stretch out comfortably and for Gabriel to curl up around him.

XXXXX

Aziraphale smoothed down the blankets that covered Castiel, reaching out with his own Grace to tangle with his brother’s weaker essence. It wouldn’t be enough to sustain him for too long, but perhaps it would be able to give Castiel some peace before the end.

“How is he?” Bobby asked as he entered the room and took a seat next to Aziraphale by the bed.

Aziraphale smiled slightly at the older hunter. “Sam and Gabriel sent you to check on me, didn’t they?”

“That gonna be a problem if they did?”

“I’m not going to go after Dean, if that’s what they’re worried about,” Aziraphale said. “Though quite frankly, I feel I would be justified in doing so.”

“Pretty sure Sam and Gabriel feel the same way,” Bobby said. “Probably wanted me to stop you doing anything so they wouldn’t have to pretend to be angry at you.”

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at that. “I would have thought Sam at least would be upset if I hit his brother.”

“With all the shit he’s pulled today? Not a chance,” Bobby said. “Pretty sure Sam would beat Dean himself if he lets Cas die now.”

Aziraphale’s smile faded slightly at the reminder of his own brother’s condition, and he returned his attention back to the bed. “If they’ve both rejected the bond, as Gabriel seems to think, it might not matter if Dean comes to his senses,” he said quietly.

“I got Gabriel to agree to talk to Cas,” Bobby said. “And Sam’s gonna do everything he can to get these two idjits to realize their mistake. It’s the kid’s one weakness; even after all the shit Castiel put him through, he’s still not gonna give up on his friend.”

“It’s not a weakness,” Aziraphale said. “More people in this world could stand to forgive others.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” Bobby muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale said with sharp glance at the hunter.

“Look, I ain’t a member of the Crowley fan club by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re making yourself miserable by cutting him out like that,” Bobby said. “At least confront him about it instead of being a coward and hidin’ in here ‘til he finally breaks in!”

“Are you done?” Aziraphale asked coolly, his attention still focused on Castiel so he didn’t have to look at the hunter.

Bobby snorted. “You and Dean might actually get along, if you can ever have a conversation that doesn’t involve fists.”

“If he doesn’t do the right thing here, I can guarantee that will never happen,” Aziraphale said lightly, but Bobby had gotten to know the angel well enough to realize that he was being completely serious.

So Bobby just nodded and kicked back in his chair, resting his feet on the edge of the bed. “Wake me up if something happens.”

“Of course.”

Bobby was used to running on little to no sleep. It was just one of those things that happened when he had so many hunters relying on him for research, or to pretend to be the feds, or to bury a couple of bodies in his yard. He learned a long time ago to grab a couple hours of rest wherever he could and to sleep lightly when he did. So all it took was the slightest of sounds for him to jerk awake and immediately try to figure out what the hell was going on.

And it wasn’t really that hard to work out. Aziraphale had one hand pressed to Castiel’s chest, a faint white glow surrounding the two of them. “What’s going on?” Bobby asked as he sat up.

“Go get Gabriel,” is the only answer Aziraphale gave him. The white light began to grow brighter and Bobby quickly retreated downstairs.

Dean was sitting in the chair that Bobby had vacated a couple of hours earlier, eating one of the sandwiches that Gabriel had snapped up. He looked up as Bobby walked down the stairs, worry showing in his eyes as he asked, “Everything alright?”

“’Course it’s not, ya idjit,” Bobby grumbled. He could have sworn the couch was smaller when he went upstairs, but he had more important things to worry about. He swatted Sam’s head, figuring it might be safer to wake him up rather than Gabriel. “Aziraphale needs help upstairs,” he said when Sam blearily cracked open an eye.

“G’briel, get up,” Sam muttered, shoving at his lover. “It’s Cas.”

Gabriel, who had been trying his best to pretend that he was still asleep, was already untangling himself from Sam and with a faint rustle of feathers he disappeared upstairs.

“What’s going on with Cas?” Dean asked, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably.

“Don’t know,” Bobby admitted. “Woke up and Aziraphale was doing something with his Grace. Told me to get Gabriel, and that was that.”

Dean stood up from the table and moved towards the stairs. “I should-”

“You should stay out of their hair, unless you want to start another fight when they’re tryin’ to save your angel’s life,” Bobby said firmly.

Dean stopped, turning to stare at Bobby, tension and fear radiating from him, but Bobby didn’t relent and Dean instead moved past him and retreated into the rows of books once more.

Sam sighed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

He found his brother in a dusty back corner, hidden behind a rickety bookshelf, his head resting against the wall as if he had either decided to try sleeping standing up or had just finished banging his head against the shelves. Sam stayed silent at first, knowing that he had to play this carefully or he would blow his only chance to try and get through to Dean.

After a few minutes of silence, where Sam knew that his brother was well aware of the fact that he was standing there, Dean said, “I didn’t mean to reject the bond.”

“I figured as much,” Sam said calmly.

Dean continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I mean, we were fighting and I got angry and left but I didn’t mean to-” He stopped as Sam’s words finally caught up to him. “What do you mean, you figured as much? You all have been looking at me like I went and drowned a cat or something!”

“Well intentional or not, Cas’s life is still at stake here,” Sam said. Dean flinched and turned away; Sam just rolled his eyes. “C’mon dude, just go confess your undying love for him and get it over with.”

“There’s no undying love to confess,” Dean snapped.

“There had to be something there for the bond to form in the first place,” Sam reminded him. “And it had to be mutual, which means he must feel something for you.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and Sam waited to see if he would even answer at all. They were dancing around the issue of Dean’s sexuality, and this wasn’t a subject his brother had ever been comfortable discussing. Even when Sam came out as bi, he had been accepting but still kept the conversation as short as possible. So Sam was rather surprised when Dean quietly admitted, “It’s just… I’ve never…”

“Oh come on,” Sam interrupted. “That is complete bullshit and you know it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been checking out guys for years, before I even went to Stanford,” Sam said. “And you’re only more blatant about it now. Look, I know how Dad raised us-”

“This has nothing to do with Dad,” Dean said quickly.

“Yeah, it does, Dean,” Sam said. “Because he was set in his ways and tried to teach us the same. Why do you think I never came out to him?”

“Maybe because you could never have a civil conversation with the man?” Dean said sarcastically.

“My point is,” Sam continued, ignoring Dean’s comment. “Dad wasn’t right about any of that, and you liking dudes is hardly new information here. You know it, I know it. Hell, _Gabriel_ knows it, if the Dr. Sexy TV Land is anything to go by.” Dean’s face flushed at the reminder and Sam had to keep from smirking. “So don’t tell me that your only issue here is with Cas’s Vessel. What’s really going on?”

Dean scowled and turned away again, staring at the wall and doing his best to pretend Sam wasn’t there. Dean had hoped his brother would buy that line, that maybe it would be enough to get Sam off his back about this; he should have known Sam would see right through it.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell is up with you man, but Cas is _dying_ up there,” Sam snapped. “Whatever he is to you, Bobby and I are going to lose a friend. Gabriel and Aziraphale are going to lose their _brother_. The least you could do is fucking explain why you’re going to let that happen.”

“I don’t want it to!” Dean insisted, turning back around to face Sam. “Fuck, Sammy, you gotta believe me. The last thing I was is for Cas to die now, but I…” He sighed in frustration. “I can’t just force this bond on him like that.”

“Whoa, hold on a second,” Sam said. “Who said anything about forcing a bond on him? Like I’ve been trying to tell you, you both-”

“Had to have wanted it, yeah, I know,” Dean interrupted. “But he was fucking _dying_ Sam. He couldn’t have been thinking right, y’know?”

“Have you asked him about it?” Sam asked.

Dean scowled. “No I didn’t ask him about it. I didn’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know him, Sam!” Dean snapped. “Because he didn’t care about me like that and after everything that’s happened and everything I did to him he certainly doesn’t care about me like that now!”

“But you care about him that way?” Sam ventured.

“Didn’t say that,” Dean said quickly, his face flushing.

“Didn’t have to,” Sam said. “Because I’ve seen you when you’re around him. The way you take the time to show him the little things about being human, explain pop culture references- hell, you fucking shared your pie with him! If he’s hurt you’re the only one who’s allowed to take care of him. You fix his tie and carry his trench coat with you wherever you go. He’s the first person you think of to call when you need help, or even if you don’t need help because you know he’ll show up anyway.”

“So what the hell is your point?” Dean demanded, fidgeting slightly under Sam’s scrutinizing gaze.

“My point is that if that’s not love, I don’t know what it is,” Sam said. “You’ll look at him sometimes like he’s the only one in the room, like he’s the center of the fucking universe or something. And the worst part is that _he looks at you the same way_ , but you’ve never fucking seen it. But you have seen him drop everything to run to your side. You’ve seen him sacrifice everything for you, fucking _fall_ for you, sacrifice his own life to save yours. And you still think he doesn’t love you?”

“He doesn’t,” Dean said automatically. “He- he can’t.”

“Why not?” Sam demanded. “Because you don’t fucking deserve it? Because you’ve screwed up once or twice so that means you’re not allowed to have anyone care about you?”

“Fuck you,” Dean snapped. “It’s not fair for Castiel to be bonded to someone like me just because he _has_ to be.”

“So you’re going to let him die instead, is that how this is going to work?”

“Cas fucking rejected this too, so don’t try and lay all the blame on me!”

Sam shook his head in disbelief and turned to leave. “Talk to him, dude. Ask him about all that shit, because he should have a say in all of this before you go and sign his death sentence.”

Sam stormed back to the back room and flopped down on the couch, burying his head in his hands. “I take it that didn’t go to well?” Bobby asked, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

“Shoved the truth in his face but I don’t think he was buying what I was selling.” Sam sighed in frustration. “I just can’t believe he’d rather leave Cas to die than fucking do something about this!”

“He’ll come around,” Bobby said. “He might not be happy about it, but he’s not gonna let Cas die.”


	7. Part VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for very brief smut of the Destiel variety.

Dean was a fucking idiot.

The thing was, he didn’t want Cas to die at all. He was just selfish enough that he’d force the bond on Castiel, whether he wanted it or not, if he could even figure out how to accept the damned thing or whatever the hell it was he had to. So yeah, Dean was planning on going back and talking to Cas once he had calmed down anyway, try and convince his friend that accepting the bond really was for the best. Except now the angel was flat-lining and Dean had no idea what was going on, or if he’d even be able to talk to Cas at all.

And that thought terrified him. He had already almost lost Castiel once and he knew he couldn’t go through that again. Because if Sam’s lecture to him was good for anything, it at least got him to admit that yeah, somehow he managed to fall for his angel. He still thought it was messed up, and there was no way that Castiel felt the same (despite what Dean’s bitch of a younger brother seemed to think), but maybe if he admitted it to himself it might help to repair the bond between them.

…which only brought him back to the issue that he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to fix this bond. His mind was too scrambled to even begin to think of possible solutions, and he was torn between worry and sheer, absolute terror and panic over Castiel’s condition, because now that he admitted it to himself he had no fucking clue how he ever thought he _wasn’t_ in love with Castiel, and the thought of losing the angel now is just unbearable and there _has_ to be something he can do, and-

“Hey, chucklehead, snap out of it.”

Dean jumped slightly and turned to glare at Gabriel. “What do you want?” he snapped, realizing a moment too late that anger wasn’t the best response when dealing with the brother of the dying angel.

Gabriel’s eyes flashed and his hands clenched into fists at his side, but somehow the Archangel managed to restrain himself from actually lashing out at Dean. “Castiel is stable for the time being. If you want to talk to him, now would be a good time to do it.”

Gabriel turned to leave, and Dean quickly reached out to grab his wrist to stop him. The angel turned and looked back at him, quirking an eyebrow in question. Dean swallowed his pride, knowing that there was no one else he could ask no matter how much he wished he could have this discussion with anyone else, and asked, “How exactly do I fix the bond?”

“Make sure you _really_ fucking want to fix things and let Cassie do the rest,” Gabriel said, but his eyes were softer and he didn’t seem to be on the verge of killing Dean anymore. “At this point, with both of you having rejected it, it isn’t enough for you to want it back. You have to get him to want it as well.”

For a moment Dean wanted to ask Gabriel to talk to Castiel for him, to smooth things over so he could avoid the awkward conversation that he knew was coming. But this was only between him and Castiel, and as much as he wanted to pawn it off on someone else he knew that he couldn’t. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered.

“Yeah, whatever,” Gabriel said, waving away his thanks. “Just get up there and talk to him, Deano, before he gets any worse.”

Aziraphale had disappeared, no doubt holing himself up in an isolated corner of his bookstore or obsessively checking the wards again, and Dean was grateful that there wouldn’t be an audience for his talk with Cas. The angel had been dozing when he walked into the room, but cracked open an eye to watch him drag a chair close to the bed and sit down. “Can we talk?”

“There is nothing to discuss.”

Well, this was going to go _wonderfully_. Dean sighed and tried again. “Well, can I at least apologize for before? I… I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. You’re right- all of us work with demons far more than we should, and it’s never ended well for any of us. It wasn’t fair to put all the blame on you here for doing the same.”

Castiel nodded slightly and Dean took that as a sign to continue. “And, uh, there was something else I wanted to tell you, and I should have mentioned it before, but-”

“Don’t,” Castiel interrupted quietly.

Dean frowned. “Don’t what?”

“I know Gabriel and Aziraphale have no doubt told you about the bond between us, but don’t sit there and pretend to care just to keep me alive,” Castiel said.

Dean was so taken by surprise at Castiel’s blunt approach to the subject that they both had been dancing around for days that he couldn’t even think of a coherent way to tell the angel how wrong he was.

Castiel, however, must have interpreted his silence far differently because he quickly continued speaking. “I still fail to see any alternative course of action I could have taken, however there are certain events that occurred that I am deeply sorry for. Sam, for one, and the deaths I caused while I had the souls. And I am sorry that I never told you about the bond, Dean. It was barely more than residual Grace at first, and hardly worth mentioning when I was still trying to gain your trust.”

“Cas-” Dean tried, but the angel cut him off.

“I wasn’t aware that the bond was becoming stronger, not at first,” Castiel continued. “I was still falling at the time and did not have the strength to recognize what was happening. When I finally realized it I was already in the middle of the civil war in Heaven and you had your own problems to worry about with Sam. I didn’t want you to feel as if I was forcing this on you, so I never broached the subject. When you saved me at the reservoir I wasn’t aware of what was happening at the time. If I had known that my feelings for you would cause this to happen, I never would have taken advantage of the bond like that. It is my fault that the bond is the way it is now, and I apologize for forcing it on you.”

“Your- your feelings for me?” Dean repeated, his heart hammering in his chest as, for the first time, he considered the possibility that Sam hadn’t been lying to him after all.

Castiel nodded miserably. “I have known for a while now that my feelings towards you are no longer strictly platonic,” he said quietly. “It is not fair for me to ask you to return them. Not after what I have done to you and those you… those you love. I suppose I must thank you for saving me from the Leviathans, but I will not let you bind yourself to me out of a sense of duty. You have done enough, and I do not fear death.”

“Cas, just… just shut up for a minute and let me talk,” Dean said. His mind was still reeling with the realization that the angel had less-than-platonic feelings for him, that there was actually _something_ there between them, but he still had to convince the stubborn bastard that he felt the same way.

Well. Bluntness had worked in the past. “Cas, I think I’m in love with you.”

Castiel turned to stare at him incredulously and opened his mouth to speak, but Dean quickly cut him off. “No, you had your chance to talk. Now you get to listen to me. You know I’m not good with this talking-about-your-feelings crap and hell, I’m probably about as in-tune with my emotions as a brick so I’m a bit slow on the uptake with things like this. It figures that Sam would be the one to figure this all out first.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, he uh, kinda cornered me and gave me this whole lecture,” Dean said, flushing with embarrassment. “But I think I knew before then, anyway, I just... it was easier not to really think about it. I mean, I thought you were dead and then afterwards we didn’t know if we’d be able to get you back. Or… or if you’d even want anything to do with me. I was a dick, Cas, I know that. Instead of trying to help you I tried to kill you. And you’d have every right to hate me for that.

“But I do. Love you, I mean. And I’m not just throwing that out there to keep you alive, because God knows I don’t lie about stuff like that,” he said. Sam and Bobby and everyone he’d lost over the years could attest to that. “I was a wreck after… well, after everything. It’s like I got so used to having you in the center of my world that I didn’t know how to function without that, you know? And then you weren’t dead but… You should hate me. And I don’t know how you don’t, but you _should_.”

Castiel shook his head, his face flushed. “I don’t think I could ever truly hate you, Dean.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t,” Dean muttered. “And I know I’m not good at showing how I feel. I mean, you sacrificed _everything_ for me and I still didn’t pick up on that, and I know there’s no sort of evidence that I use to convince you that I’m telling the truth.”

“Dean-”

“But I mean, you can’t really blame me,” Dean continued quickly, before the angel could start what was no doubt going to be another long speech about how he thought Dean was lying. “I mean, it was bad enough having other hunters know me as “the pretty one” growing up; having them know that I was sometimes into dudes as well would _not_ have ended well. So I just didn’t tell anyone and mostly stuck to chicks because it was safer, and before you came along I was fine with that. I wanted to hate you when I first saw you, but instead you became one of the most important things in my life. You’re- you’re everything, Cas, and I am not going to let you die, do you understand me?”

“I do understand, Dean,” Castiel said, his eyes just a bit too bright. 

Dean moved to sit down on the edge of the bed instead. He reached out slowly, deliberately, cupping the angel’s face gently and Castiel turned to nuzzle slightly into his hand. Dean felt like the air had been knocked out of him, and he leaned down, capturing Cas’s mouth with his own. He expected the angel to be hesitant, unsure, but Castiel surprised him by responding to the kiss eagerly. Dean felt overwhelmed with emotion, love and devotion and adoration singing through him until his entire world had been narrowed down to _Castiel_.

“That’s the bond,” Castiel whispered as he pulled away slightly. “It’s… we’ve accepted it again.”

Dean kissed along Castiel’s jaw, sucking a bruise on the hollow of his throat. “You’re not going to die on me, then?” he murmured against the angel’s skin.

Castiel tilted his head back, giving Dean easier access to his neck. “N-no. _Dean_ …”

“Shh… I’ve got you…” Dean murmured, snaking his hand under the covers and down Castiel’s body. It had been awhile since he’d been with a guy but he wanted to give Cas this, wanted to give his angel everything he possibly could. Castiel was already hard and Dean palmed his erection, smirking as the angel bucked into his hand.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel panted. “Please, just-”

Dean pulled away quickly. “Sorry, sorry. Too much?”

Castiel shook his head, his pupils blown wide with lust and Jesus Christ, Dean really was an idiot for not making his move sooner because the sight of his angel on the verge of coming undone was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Except something was obviously wrong and Dean ignored his own arousal and asked, “What’s the matter, then?”

“Our bond is still uncompleted,” Castiel said.

“So what?”

“I cannot complete the bond with you,” Castiel whispered. “Not because I don’t love you, but… I can’t, Dean. Not now.”

Dean felt a weight lift off his shoulders at Castiel’s words, at the reassurance that they could still love each other without the angel being tied to someone like him. “It’s fine, Cas,” Dean said. “I get it, I do.” He cleared his throat, his face flushing, and asked, “And, uh, if we… that would complete the bond?”

“There needs to be a specific intent behind it as well but yes, any sort of shared sexual experience could be used to complete it,” Castiel said. “And I do not think I am capable of stopping the bond from forming right now.”

But Dean hadn’t gone through almost two months of almost-hell to end this now. “But the bond can only form if both of us get off, right?” he said, already starting to undo the buttons on Castiel’s dress shirt.

“Yes, but- ah!” Castiel groaned as Dean leaned down to lick at his nipple, teasing the nub with his tongue before switching to the other. “ _Dean!_ ”

Dean smirked, but slid his hand down to undo the top button on Castiel’s pants and slowly dragged the zipper down. He wanted to keep teasing the angel, see how long it would take to get him begging beneath him, but this was Castiel’s first time at _anything_ and he wasn’t going to be cruel. He quickly tugged down the angel’s pants and briefs, taking a moment to enjoy the sight as he moved between Castiel’s legs. The angel was breathing heavily, bruises already forming on his neck and chest from earlier. His dick was rock hard, flushed deep red, and Dean had never been one for sucking cock but _damn_ , he _wanted_ it.

He leaned down and licked gently at the head of Castiel’s cock, tongue flicking over the slit and collecting the precome gathered there. The angel moaned, hips bucking up instinctively, and Dean moved to pin them down before taking the head into his mouth and sucking lightly. Dean smirked up at the angel before taking more of him in.

Castiel writhed beneath him, trying not to buck up into his mouth, moans of _Dean_ and _please_ falling from his mouth. Dean felt his cock throbbing against his jeans and he reached up to gently roll Castiel’s balls before he could even think about jerking himself off. He didn’t want to screw up this fragile thing he had with the angel now.

Castiel was close, his eyes screwed shut and his toes curling in pleasure, and Dean reached further back, pressing a finger lightly against the angel’s entrance and massaging the ring of muscle there as he swallowed Castiel down as far as he could. The angel’s eyes opened and he tensed and came suddenly, hips trying to jerk up despite the weight of Dean’s forearm across them. Dean swallowed as much as he could before pulling away, his hand continuing to jerk the angel through the last of his orgasm.

Castiel was completely lax, eyes already slipping shut once more. Dean had his jeans half off before he thought to ask, “Cas, can I…?”

The angel nodded, watching with dark eyes and Dean took out his dick and began to jerk himself off. It only took a few strokes for him to come as well, shooting all over his and Castiel’s chests. He pulled off his t-shirt and used it wipe up the mess before tossing it off to the side. He kicked off his jeans as he slipped underneath the covers. “You good?”

Castiel curled up against Dean’s side. “I’m fine,” he said, and the faint smile on his face said everything that he didn’t put into words.

Dean kissed the top of his head lightly, unable to stop a smile of his own from breaking out across his face, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were asleep.

After that, Castiel’s recovery went smoother and faster than it had before. Dean refused to leave his side, as if afraid that even ten minutes away would cause the angel to change his mind about everything. For his part, Castiel seemed not to mind the sudden surge of affection from the hunter. It was as if, after months of being apart and years of being only able to look, they wanted to get caught up on all the time they had lost.

And, for the most part, the others left them alone. Aziraphale stopped by occasionally to make sure Castiel’s Grace was stabilizing, but mostly he spent his time discussing books with Bobby and no doubt trying to forget about the demon that was literally trying to break down his front door. Gabriel had stopped by once, smirking at the sight of Dean and Castiel curled up in bed together, and left after a few lewd comments and obscene hand gestures that had left the hunter flushed with a mixture of anger and arousal and the angel simply confused. Since then they had seen neither the Archangel nor Sam; Dean had a feeling they were off doing some celebrating of their own, and did his best not to think about it too much.

It took two days for Castiel to feel strong enough to leave the bed. Dean helped him stand up, ready to catch him if he fell, but the angel had no problem walking across the room and back. “Want to try the stairs?” he asked as the angel leaned against him for a moment.

“Yes, but I will need clothes,” Castiel said.

Dean eyed Castiel’s lean body, smirking as he took in the bare chest and dress pants that were still undone. “You look fine the way you are.”

“Dean,” Castiel said exasperatedly, but his lips were still quirking up in a faint smile.

Dean laughed. “Don’t worry, Gabriel left some clothes here for you before he disappeared with my brother.” He dug through a stack of neatly folded clothes that had been set on top of the dresser and tossed the angel a pair of clean briefs, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. “Here, get changed and we’ll head downstairs.”

Castiel was blushing as he changed into the clothes, not quite meeting Dean’s gaze, and the hunter couldn’t help but smile at it. It still amazed him that this wonderful, beautiful angel was _his_ , that though Castiel was still healing in many ways he was the same as ever before. It gave him hope that this would work out between them, that everything would be fine despite the emotional baggage they both had.

“Dean?”

Castiel was standing there, and seriously he had to be the only person who could make low-slung sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt look that sexy. But Dean was getting better at reading the angel and he could see how Castiel’s eyes were clouded with old fears and memories, and now definitely was not the time to be thinking about how much he wanted to pin Castiel to the bed. He kissed the angel lightly, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and murmured, “You ready to finally leave this room?”

Castiel nodded and Dean stood back slightly, letting the angel make his own way down the stairs but staying close enough to provide help if needed; he was still afraid sometimes of pushing his angel too far, the memory of their near-disastrous fight sitting heavy on his heart.

Castiel was shaky on the stairs, but managed to make it down them without incident. Bobby was in the kitchen, grabbing one of the last beers that Gabriel had snapped up before he left, and Aziraphale was returning a stack of books to their proper places on the shelves. Castiel froze on the bottom step as both of them looked up at him but Dean was already there with a hand on his back, providing a grounding presence before the angel’s fears could get the best of him.

“Well, it’s certainly good to see you up and about, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a small smile. “Feeling better, I’m assuming?”

“I, uh… yes,” Castiel stammered. “Thank you for your help.”

Aziraphale waved away his thanks. “Gabriel did most of the work, to be honest. I simply showed him _what_ to do.”

“Speaking of which, where is the Archangel and my brother?” Dean asked, accepting the beer that Bobby passed him and cracking it open. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer, but it was worth it when Castiel shot him a grateful look for moving Aziraphale’s attention to a new topic.

“I believe Gabriel and Sam are working on the preparations for completing their mating bond,” Aziraphale said.

Dean had overheard enough about the problems Sam and Gabriel had been having to know that they were looking for an alternative solution to completing the mating bond, and although he didn’t particularly want to know the details of his brother’s sex life he asked, “So figured out how to complete it, then?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Sam wasn’t particularly happy with the situation, but Gabriel finally managed to bring him around.”

“Why was Sam unhappy with the solution?” Castiel asked sharply.

Dean flinched as a wave of emotion burst through their bond; he had only been able to sense Castiel a few times before, but although he was getting used to these occasional echoes of feelings this was _nothing_ like those other times. It was a sudden assault of guilt and concern and fear and protectiveness and so many other things that Dean wasn’t even sure had names. And all of it was concentrated around _Sam_.

And fuck, Dean had guessed that Castiel was still torn up about what he did but he never would have guessed that his angel was this much of a wreck- though, at the same time, he can’t really blame him. Hell, if Sam hadn’t already made it clear that everything was forgiven Dean probably would have felt obligated to do _something_ on Sam’s behalf.

Castiel was watching him carefully and Dean caught his eye, grinning slightly to show that he was alright with the situation. Castiel nodded slightly, and Dean knew that they were still going to have to have a conversation about this at some point, but Aziraphale was talking again and the hunter refocused his attention on the other angel.

“…but once they realized they weren’t going to find anything in the books, Gabriel suggested they try a blood ritual,” Aziraphale was saying.

“Wait, what the hell do you mean, a blood ritual?” Dean demanded because damnit, didn’t Sam learn from his mistakes?

“It ain’t gonna be anything like that, ya idjit, so stop worrying,” Bobby said. “No addiction, and no side effects ‘cept what would normally come with the bond.”

“But-”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said quietly. “Bobby is correct. Angel blood would not have the same effect that demon blood did. Sam is in no harm.”

Dean bit his lip. It still went against all his instincts to just sit back and let Sam do a freakin’ _blood ritual_ after everything with Ruby… but he was willing to show a little bit of trust in Castiel.

And it seemed he wasn’t the only one. Bobby was eyeing Castiel, judging the angel’s sincerity for himself, and he slowly nodded. The old hunter was fine with the situation, and Dean saw Castiel relax slightly as he too realized that. Although Dean had expected nothing less, it was still reassuring to know that things would still be alright between everyone in their little group.

Castiel took advantage of the lull in conversation to ask Aziraphale for a proper tour of the bookstore. Once the two angels had left, Bobby asked, “So how’s he really holding up?”

Dean shrugged and took another drink of his beer. “Fine, most of the time.”

“And the rest of the time?” Bobby asked, because he never was one for just leaving things alone.

“He has his issues to work through,” Dean said. “But so do I. So do _all_ of us, at this point in the game.”

“Ain’t that the goddamned truth,” Bobby muttered, and not for the first time Dean wondered what skeletons were still hiding in the older hunter’s closet.

XXXXX

“You have a rather impressive collection here,” Castiel said, as he ran his fingers lightly along the spines of the books.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said with a smile. He was always happy to find people who appreciated his books; it had been such a welcome relief to have both Bobby and Sam interested in the texts he owned. “I’ve been collecting for several centuries now, and I’m rather proud of it all.”

“How did you come to acquire all of these?”

“I just kept my eyes open for them, that’s all,” Aziraphale said. “Several of them were gifts from Crow… Well, several were gifts.”

He turned away, pretending to busy himself with neatening one of the stacks of books but in reality he simply didn’t want Castiel to see his reaction to his near slip-up. He was getting better at not thinking of the demon all the time, but that didn’t mean his friend’s betrayal didn’t hurt and he hoped that Castiel would let the subject drop-

“Dean told me about what happened with Crowley.”

-except he’d been spending far too much time with his mate to still be tactful. Or perhaps he never was; Sam and Bobby have shared some interesting stories about Castiel trying to adapt to the human way of life. “I would really prefer not to discuss it,” Aziraphale said as lightly as he could, because honestly, Castiel couldn’t ignore a direct request like that.

Except, again, his brother had been spending far too much time with Dean Winchester lately. “He talked about you quite frequently.”

Aziraphale exhaled slowly. “Castiel, please-”

“He was worried about other demons taking their revenge by going after you,” Castiel continued, seemingly unaware of Aziraphale’s emotional turmoil. “It was not his desire to become King of Hell, but he felt it was the best way to protect you.”

“Was he really protecting me, Castiel?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Or simply keeping me prisoner? Keeping me out of the way?” Because Aziraphale didn’t know the truth anymore, didn’t know if Crowley truly wanted him safe or if it was all lies. He didn’t know who _Crowley_ was anymore, and that thought terrified him.

“I don’t believe he’s changed as much as you seem to think he has,” Castiel said, as if he had been reading Aziraphale’s thoughts. “He still valued your friendship very much. He was redesigning Hell, making a large portion of the torments simply waiting in a never-ending line. He wanted to update it all, make it more efficient so he wasn’t required to do as much work. That was why he wanted the souls, to help him hold onto his position without him needing to constantly be there. Everything he did was done with the intention of keeping you safe and allowing him to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“How can you stand there defending him, Castiel?” Aziraphale demanded, finally spinning around to face the other angel. “After everything he did to you?”

“Although it’s true he is not blameless in the matter, you cannot pin everything on him,” Castiel said. “What occurred was never part of Crowley’s plan.”

“Are you sure about this?” Aziraphale asked. What he meant was _How sure are you, because right now I can’t let myself trust him at all?_

Castiel nodded, and it seemed he understood what was left unsaid. “I am sure. And brother, I almost lost Dean because of this mess. I know what this betrayal feels like, and so does he, but we are overcoming that. I only wish the same for you.” After a pause, he added, “Aziraphale, it is not my desire to force you to do anything about this situation. However, through no fault of your own, you were not given all the information about Crowley’s motivation and you deserve to know the truth.”

Castiel left to rejoin Dean and Bobby, leaving Aziraphale standing alone among his books that, for once, didn’t provide him the comfort they usually did. Castiel and the others would be leaving soon; what was the point of his books if there was no one to share them with?

Aziraphale knew that if he just took a few steps to his left he’d have a clear view out the front window. Crowley had stopped trying to break in, but Aziraphale knew he was still out there, waiting, watching. But for what? Revenge?

Or forgiveness?

XXXXX

“Hey-o! Did you two lovebirds miss me?”

Dean started, nearly falling out of his chair as Gabriel appeared suddenly next to him. Even Castiel looked momentarily surprised, his eyes going wide and fearful before his expression closed off again.

“Jesus Christ, Gabriel, a little bit of warning next time, yeah?” Dean muttered as he sank back down into his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Castiel had woken with nightmares in the extreme early hours of the morning and Dean had lain awake with him almost until dawn, doing his best to remind the angel that whatever he dreamed of wasn’t actually there.  “What the hell are you doing here anyway?” he asked. “And where’s Sam?”

“Relax, Sammy is safe and sound back at Singer’s place,” Gabriel said. “Figured it was about time for our little troupe to clear out, leave Zira to the peace and quiet of his books. If Cassie is ready to go, that is.”

“I am fine.”

“Not what I was asking, bro,” Gabriel said. “You’re not leaving this place until I say you’re good and ready to. Now, any tiredness, dizziness, general human feelings that you’re not technically supposed to experience?”

Castiel glared at him, but Gabriel just smirked patiently and waited for a response. Castiel sighed in irritation and said, “No. I am _fine_.”

Gabriel ignored the repeated claim. “Any problems using your Grace?”

Castiel flushed and looked away. “I wouldn’t know,” he muttered.

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Seriously dude? You haven’t used your mojo yet?”

“I… didn’t think it would be advisable.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean snapped, before suddenly thinking of something. “Shit, Cas, you can use your mojo, right? I mean, it’s not still screwed up because of what happened?” 

“I am fine,” Castiel repeated. “My Grace is fine. Everything is _fine_.”

“Dean’s gonna be fine then?” Gabriel asked.

Dean glanced sharply at the Archangel. “What are you talking about?”

“Your bond, of course, what else?” Gabriel said. “Castiel’s Grace is tethered to your soul in a way that is never supposed to happen, and you didn’t think there’d be some side-effects when he used his mojo?”

Dean hadn’t ever thought about it. Sure, he got weird emotional feedback from Cas every once in a while, but he hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen when the angel actually used his Grace for something. “What sort of side-effects are we talking about here?” he asked cautiously, not sure he’d like the answer.

“Dunno. Let’s find out,” Gabriel said. “Think fast, Cassie!” He snapped his fingers, sending a small fireball across the bookstore towards the other angel.

Castiel waved his hand, the fireball instantly vanishing, but the moment the angel lifted his arm to act Dean felt his stomach drop and something _yanked_ , pulling at something deep inside him. He dropped to one knee, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as he waited for the sudden wave of nausea to pass. He felt Castiel kneel down beside him and slip his hand over the mark on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter relaxed almost immediately as the angel’s soothing emotions replaced the nausea and pain.

“What the hell was that?” Dean finally asked when he was sure that he wouldn’t throw up if he opened his mouth.

“Feedback from your bond,” Gabriel said carelessly. “When Castiel pulls on his Grace he’s also pulling on your soul. Normally his Grace would be able to protect your soul at the same time, stop this from happening, but with how heavily he has to rely on you that protection just isn’t there.”

“Anything we can do to stop it?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Completing the bond might take care of it.”

“Dean and I agreed that that is not the best course of action at this time,” Castiel growled, and even though Dean had agreed to that he hated how it sounded when Castiel said it out loud.

Gabriel pursed his lips, eyes flicking between Dean and Castiel in obviously displeasure. “Fine,” he finally said. “Despite popular belief I don’t care what you two get up to anyway.”

Dean snorted. Yeah, right.

“My point is,” Gabriel continued, glaring at the hunter. “You two can’t do jackshit until this gets worked out. Or do you want to be out on a hunt and have everything go to hell there?”

“So what, you’re just going to force us to stay here until everything gets sorted out?” Dean demanded.

“Yeah, maybe I will,” Gabriel snapped. “If I left now you wouldn’t be able to leave until you found a way to work around the limits of your bond, not without Castiel practically shredding your soul anyway.”

“Gabriel, that’s quite enough,” Aziraphale said as he and Bobby joined the small group, no doubt drawn by the rapidly-escalating argument. “Were you ever even planning on asking my opinion about this, my dear?”

“Did I have to?”

“This is still my bookstore, not yours,” Aziraphale pointed out politely. “And I feel it would be for the best if Castiel and Dean worked this out somewhere else.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You’re kicking them out.” It wasn’t a question, and everyone knew it.

“I’m saying that Castiel is no longer at risk of dying and perhaps it would be for the best if they were in a more familiar place while they sorted this out.” Aziraphale paused for a moment, and added, “And there is something I need to take care of that I would rather not have an audience for.”

Dean looked between the three angels, all of whom seemed to be in some sort of silent standoff. Gabriel cracked first, throwing his head back and laughing as he patted Aziraphale on the back. “Knew you’d cave eventually,” he said, sounding far more cheerful than he had only moments before. “Alright fellows, let’s give Zira some space, shall we? Grab whatever you need and we’ll head out.”

XXXXX

Sam was exhausted.

The funny part was that he hadn’t even been busy working on any of the pre-ritual preparations; Gabriel was taking care of all of that while Sam stayed at Bobby’s place. And that was the problem, really. Gabriel was usually good about not staying away long enough for Sam’s mind to start breaking down and for Lucifer to show up, but _usually_ wasn’t the same as _always_. Sam knew that Gabriel was far from perfect, but the days spent trying to hold it all together while waiting for the Archangel to return were still draining.

So here he was, lying on Bobby’s couch and trying to get some sleep while Gabriel went to “check up on our idiot brothers, make sure they haven’t done something stupid _again_ because you know how they are. Don’t worry, I’ll be back within an hour and seriously, try to get some sleep, kiddo; you’re gonna need it for the ritual.”

 _Trying_ being the operative word of course, because between the stress from Lucifer and the promise of completing his bond with Gabriel Sam was far too wired to get any rest at all.

He rolled over on the couch, squirming to find a decently comfortable position despite the many lumps, and wondering what exactly Dean was up to with his new angel boyfriend. He hoped that the two of them would be able to work things out; he knew they both had issues, but then again so did he and Gabriel and they were managing things just fine.

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of wings and a tug on his bond with Gabriel that was he was quickly getting used to. “I hope you weren’t serious about me getting some sleep, Gabe. Seriously, next time just take me with you so I can at least tease Dean myself-” His voice trailed off as he finally saw that Gabriel wasn’t the only one standing there. “Oh.”

Bobby snorted. “Idjit,” he muttered, already on his way to his study, a stack of books from Aziraphale tucked under his arm.

Sam expected a smartass comments from his brother and Gabriel, but both of them were watching Castiel carefully. The angel had frozen, staring at Sam with an unreadable expression on his face, and with a jolt Sam realized that this was the first time the two of them had really seen each other since the whole mess had gone down. “Hey, Cas,” he said quietly.

Castiel’s eyes widened, and for a moment Sam was sure he was going to bolt, but both Gabriel and Dean reach out and grab on to him. “Sorry Cassie, remember the rules,” Gabriel said, and Castiel glared at him. “Oh don’t give me that look. Listen, Sam, there’s one more thing I have to take care of. I’ll be back in a few,” Gabriel said, disappearing before Sam could answer.

Dean began moving slowly towards the door. “And I’ll just, uh… I’ll go check on the Impala, I guess,” he said, and fled the room.

Sam snorted, and just let him go. “Not real subtle about it, are they?” He shook his head. “Hey, how’re you doing, by the way? What was Gabriel talking about, ‘remember the rules’?” he asked, finally glancing over at Castiel.

The angel was frozen to the spot, eyes wide with barely concealed panic, and Sam was up and moving towards him in an instant. It wasn’t until Castiel stumbled back a few steps, putting some space between them, that Sam realized that something was wrong. “Whoa, calm down Cas, it’s okay,” he said, stopping so there was still a few feet between them. “What’s going on, are you alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“I broke down the wall in your mind, Sam!” Castiel said. “I left you vulnerable to your memories of Hell, and of Lucifer, and-”

“And I’m fine,” Sam interrupted, as calmly as he could.

“You are not “fine”!” Castiel said, air-quotes and all. “Your mind is still trying to tear itself apart because of what I did and I am sorry about that, Sam. You have no idea how much I regret what I did, and if I could fix things for you I would but I _can’t_ and I’m sorry.”

“Cas, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Sam repeated. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie things were pretty damn rough for a while, but once Gabriel and I complete our bond that’ll be it. And I can sort of understand why you did it. Don’t get me wrong, it was still a goddamned-” He stopped, took a deep breath to try and calm down. “You shouldn’t have done it, Cas. But I… I can understand why. You were backed up against a wall, running out of options-”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did!” Castiel yelled. “How can you just stand there and act like you forgive me?”

“Because I’ve been in your place,” Sam said. “I’ve gotten myself in so deep with demons that I didn’t know which way was up, and I did some godawful things myself when that happened. And I never expected Dean to forgive me either but he did because that what family does, and like it or not you’re my family now, Cas. Not to mention that if you weren’t juiced-up on souls  you never would have been able to bring Gabriel back, and even if  you didn’t do that for me I still can’t thank you enough for it.”

Castiel’s face was slowly starting to crumple and Sam moved forward, pulling him close. Castiel tensed and asked hesitantly, “Sam? What are you doing?”

“Finally giving you your damn hug,” Sam said, and when Castiel finally, slowly relaxed the hunter knew they were going to be alright.

He hugged the angel for a moment longer before letting him go and stepping back. “Seriously, though. How are you doing, Cas?”

“As well as can be expected,” Castiel said. “I am no longer in danger of dying, but the bond with Dean presents certain… challenges, to using my Grace that will have to be dealt with.”

“Why, because of how your bond works?” Sam asked. “Because Gabriel and I have a pretty messed up bond as well, but we’ve never had problems with him using his Grace.”

“A normal bond has measures in place to prevent the use of Grace from affecting an angel’s mate,” Castiel said. “And while both of our bonds are unconventional, yours still carries that protection. Mine and Dean’s does not.”

Sam nodded slowly. He wanted to ask more questions, wanted to know whether Castiel was dealing with things alright, whether Dean was having unexpected issues coming to terms with his very _male_ bondmate, and why the hell Gabriel thought they weren’t going to complete the bond. But although he had finally told Castiel that he was forgiven, he knew that things were still shaky between them on the angel’s end and he wasn’t going to risk their friendship by prying too much now.

He did, however, ask hesitantly, “But you’re doing alright, right? Both of you?”

“We are both fine,” Castiel said, and although his emotionless reply wasn’t anything new Sam hoped that the angel wasn’t lying. Not about this. Not after everything that he and Dean had gone through, not when they finally had each other again.

As it turned out, it didn’t matter much because before he could ask anything else Gabriel reappeared. “Sorry to cut this conversation short, but we need to go,” he said to Sam. “Now. We have ten minutes to get the ritual started or we’ll have to start all over again.”

He grabbed the hunter’s arm, and Sam felt a brief flash of _excitementfearlovearousalmineminemine_ before Gabriel tugged and whisked them away.

 

 


	8. Epilogue

Aziraphale poured the last of the wine into his glass and downed it, taking a moment to feel the effect of all the alcohol he had consumed before sighing and sobering himself up. As tempting as the prospect of drunkenness was, he knew this was a conversation that he needed to have without his judgment being impaired.

He stood and moved towards the front windows of his shop. He couldn’t see Crowley outside, but that didn’t mean the demon wasn’t there. Not, of course, that it mattered. He waved his hand, breaking a few of the sigils that made up the wards on the building; that would be enough to draw Crowley to the store, even if he hadn’t been waiting outside already.

Aziraphale turned away and moved back into the shop to wait for Crowley to arrive, but the demon was already waiting for him by the time he reached the back room. The two stared at each other for a long moment, uncomfortable silence filling the space between them for the first time since… well, the first time ever.

“Hello, Angel,” Crowley said quietly.

Aziraphale studied him for a moment. The demon look tired and Aziraphale’s first reaction was to push him down into a chair, make him a cup of tea, force him to just _relax_ for a moment. Instead, he stood still and said, “I was expecting a bit more anger from you.”

Crowley shrugged. “I was angry, for a while. But… Well, I figured it wouldn’t get me anywhere.”

“No, it won’t,” Aziraphale agreed. “I think it’s fair to say that I had every right to ward the bookstore against you.”

“Without asking me about any of it, though.”

“You had numerous opportunities to tell me about what you were doing and you didn’t,” Aziraphale pointed out. Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but the angel cut him off. “No. You lost your chance to speak; it’s my turn now.”

Crowley closed his mouth and nodded silently. “Good,” Aziraphale said. “Now, as you are no doubt aware, I’ve learned what exactly you’ve been up to and I’ve learned from Castiel why you did it, but that does not absolve you of anything. Whether you did for the right reasons or not is irrelevant; you broke the Arrangement, you lied to me, and frankly I’m not sure I can trust you again.”

Crowley nodded again, his face stoic as if he was already bracing for the final rejection.

Except that wasn’t Aziraphale’s plan here because he had missed the demon fiercely, despite his many attempts to convince himself that he was better off without him. “However, I am willing to give this one more try.” Crowley looked up at him, shock evident in his face, and Aziraphale quickly added, “With a few conditions.”

Crowley hesitated for a moment. “I can’t give up the job,” he said quietly. “Hell would go to pieces almost immediately. We’re talking the possibility of another Apocalypse.”

“I am aware of that, my dear, and as much as I don’t like it I know you can’t abandon your job,” Aziraphale said. “However, Castiel mentioned that you were planning on making changes to Hell so it would run more efficiently so you wouldn’t be required to do as much work. Is that true?”

“That was the plan.”

“I hope it’s still the plan, because this won’t work otherwise,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You want me to keep the job?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I just want the fighting to be over, and if that means you need to hold onto your new position then so be it. But I don’t want you hanging around Down There more than you need to, my dear.”

“Fair enough,” Crowley said. “What other conditions are there?”

“No more wards on the bookstore,” Aziraphale said. “The only reason I agreed to them in the first place was because they were supposed to protect _both_ of us from our superiors, but I am not becoming a prisoner in my own store again. We both know that I am more than capable of defending myself should the need arise. And no more lying.” Crowley snorted. “Well, no more than there was before. I don’t want you keeping things like this from me anymore, Crowley.”

The demon sighed. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “And you’re still a bit good, Crowley, despite what you’ve done.”

“No, you’re right. Of course the King of Hell is a bit good,” Crowley said sarcastically, but it was easy to see that though he was falling back on their old banter his heart wasn’t totally in it. “I think you’re just too much of a bleeding heart, Angel.”

“Maybe I am,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I certainly don’t see you complaining too much.”

Crowley shrugged. “Can’t be bothered too. More important things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Aziraphale asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crowley smirked. “Like this,” he said, tugging the angel forward and into a kiss.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed him back. Seemed like things were going to be alright between them after all.

XXXXX

The metal of the knife flashed in the dim lighting of the room as Gabriel twirled it between his fingers. “You sure about this, Sammy?” he asked. “Last chance to back out.”

Personally, Sam thought the question was a bit ridiculous. If he was going to back out of this, he would have done it before Gabriel stripped him naked and tied him to the bed. But he could understand the Archangel’s concern, his need for absolute consent; they were playing with fire here, drawing on magic from Gabriel’s pagan background, and there was no telling what would happen once they actually got started.

But Sam was far too invested to back out now. He loved Gabriel, trusted him completely, and if this was what it would take to complete their bond then so be it. “I’m sure, Gabriel,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time that night. “Just do it already.”

“This is probably going to hurt,” the Archangel warned. “A lot.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Yeah, because it wasn’t like he was used to pain or anything. “Just do it,” he repeated, as patiently as he could.

Gabriel hesitated for a split second before bringing the knife up to Sam’s chest and making the first cut. Sam tensed instinctively but to his surprise it barely hurt, no more so than any other shallow cut he’d gotten during his life. Maybe the Archangel just had a ridiculously low pain tolerance, but this was a far cry from the unbearable agony Sam had been led to believe he would feel.

Gabriel worked with a single-minded, simple efficiency that surprised the hunter, who was far more used to the Archangel being over-the-top and chaotic. The sigil he was working on was the first of three that Gabriel had to carve into Sam’s skin. He had promised that they’d heal without any scarring, and with how painless this was turning out to be Sam really didn’t understand why this had been such a big deal.

But then Gabriel set the knife aside and lowered his head to Sam’s chest, eyes flicking up to Sam’s face for a brief moment, before he licked a long stripe along one of the cuts.

Sam choked back a cry, back arching off the bed and restraints pulling tight around his wrists and ankles. Fucking _hell_ , it felt like fire burning along the path of Gabriel’s tongue, blinding-hot heat exploding across his chest as Gabriel licked away every last drop of blood, and if he wasn’t tied down Sam knew he’d be fighting like hell to get away. Instead, Sam gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, hands clenching down on the restraints as he waited for the last wave of pain to disappear.

He didn’t even realize that a few tears had slipped out until Gabriel brushed them away, laying light kisses over his face. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he was murmuring.

Sam opened his eyes, staring up at Gabriel’s face. The angel looked to be on the verge of tears himself as he bit his lip, guilt evident in his eyes as he waited for the hunter’s reaction. Sam leaned up as much as he could and gently kissed him. “Don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “Let’s just keep going, yeah? Get it over with.”

“We don’t have to, kiddo. We can stop the ritual, find another way to do this…”

“We both know that there isn’t another way.” Sam forced a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. Just go on, do what you need to do.”

Gabriel still looked unconvinced and he pressed a quick kiss to Sam’s lips before picking up the knife once more. Sam tried to stay calm while Gabriel started working on the second sigil, tried to keep his breathing even and stop his heart from racing, tried to tell himself that now that he knew what to expect it wouldn’t be so bad. But when Gabriel set the knife aside again he couldn’t stop himself from tensing up, and the pain was almost worse than it was the first time.

Sam was crying silently by the time it was done, tears leaking from his closed eyes, and he was breathing heavily through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry, Sam, I’m so fucking sorry,” Gabriel said, wiping away the hunter’s tears even as a few of his own fell. “That’s it, we’re done. I’m not doing this again.”

“No, Gabriel, stop!” Sam said, eyes flying open as he felt Gabriel begin to undo one of the restraints around his wrist. “We’ve gotten this much done, we have to finish it. Don’t stop now.”

“Sam, I can’t cause you pain like this again,” Gabriel said, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that Sam. Please, let’s just end it now.”

Sam shook his head. “If we end it now, we both know that we’re never going to finish the bond,” Sam said. “And any time you accidentally touch my hip you’ll be hurting me. I’d rather do _this_ , get the pain over with here and now, then have to worry about it for the rest of my life. So finish the damn bond, and whatever you do _don’t stop_.”

Gabriel’s hand was shaking as he picked up the knife once more. His movements were quicker this time, as if getting this part over with faster made any difference at all. He paused for a moment as he leaned down towards Sam’s chest for the last time. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and began to lick the blood away.

Sam had braced himself for the pain, but it was definitely the worst of the three. He couldn’t choke back his desperate pleas for Gabriel to stop, just _stop_. Gabriel’s breath hitched but he ignored Sam’s sobs, working quickly to finish this part of the ritual. By the time they finished, Sam wasn’t even crying anymore; he just laid there, still tensed up, the occasional whimper breaking through his clenched teeth.

Gabriel wiped his own tears away and picked up the knife once more, slicing a series of sigils into his own arm before bringing it up to Sam’s mouth. “Sam? C’mon, kiddo, I need you to do this for me…” Gabriel said softly, his free hand gently rubbing the tearstains from Sam’s cheek.

Sam forced his eyes open, blinking wearily up at the Archangel. He felt like someone had taken a bat to his body and then set him on fire, and the thought of having to drink blood on top of that made him sick to his stomach. But he raised his head anyway, Gabriel’s hand moving to support his neck, and began to lap at the bleeding wounds on the angel’s arm.

Sam hadn’t known quite what to expect at this point. The demon blood he used to drink had been foul, burning his mouth and throat as he swallowed it down even as he felt the sort of high it gave him. But Gabriel’s blood was _nothing_ like that. It hit him with an immediate jolt to his system, but it was bright and good and everything the demon blood was not and if there was any taste Sam didn’t even notice it. Even better, the more blood he swallowed the more of his own pain faded away.

And then Gabriel’s hand slipped down to his hip, fitting over the handprint there, but instead of the overwhelming wave of Grace there was only a softer buzz, something comforting rather than terrifyingly powerful. He could feel Gabriel’s love and concern and guilt and joy, and when he met the angel’s eyes he could see that Gabriel could feel his emotions just as clearly.

Gabriel pulled his no longer bloody arm away, and leaned down to kiss Sam, plundering his mouth as he raised his free hand and snapped. The restraints disappeared and Sam sat up quickly, responding just as enthusiastically to the angel’s actions, determined to physically show Gabriel everything he was sending through their now-completed bond.

XXXXX

The Impala seemed to be fine, as Dean knew she would be, but that didn’t stop him from checking on every little detail. Dean popped one of his tapes in, grinning as Metallica blasted from the speakers, and began a more thorough inspection of his car. The only complaint he could make was that she was looking a little bit dusty, and Dean made a mental note to wash her down tomorrow, if he got a chance. Maybe see if Cas had any interest in helping; the angel never seemed to mind him going on and on about his baby before, after all.

“That’s because I find your appreciation for her to be both fascinating and admirable.”

Dean started slightly and turned to face Castiel. How the angel still managed to sneak up on him without the use of his Grace was beyond him. “Guess some things just don’t change, do they?” Castiel frowned in confused and Dean waved away his question before he could ask it. “Never mind. So, am I supposed to take what you just said as a compliment or what?”

“It was intended to be one,” Castiel said, running his hand lightly along the hood of the Impala. “I take it there wasn’t anything wrong with her?”

“Nah, she’s fine,” Dean said, patting his car affectionately. He only really came outside to give Cas and Sam some space to talk anyway. “So, how’re things with Sam?” he asked casually.

“Things are… good,” Castiel said after a moment’s hesitation, looking down at the Impala rather than at Dean. “I was not expecting Sam to be so forgiving.”

Dean had to smile at that. He had told Cas that Sam wasn’t holding any grudges for what had happened, but the angel hadn’t believed it, and he was glad that Sam had finally gotten through to him. He stepped forward, trapping Castiel between him and the side of the Impala, and leaned down to capture his mouth in a kiss.

Cas and his car. Nothing could be better than this, except maybe stripping Castiel out of his suit and-

“Whoa!” Dean said, pulling away quickly. He tugged at Castiel’s suit jacket, wondering how the hell he had missed the fact that the angel was no longer wearing borrowed clothes. “Thought this thing was ruined?”

“It was,” Castiel said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in amusement. “Aziraphale restored it for me, and gave it to me before we left. I find these clothes to be more comforting.”

Dean grinned as he suddenly remembered something and he kiss the angel once more before moving Castiel to the side and opening the back door of the Impala. “Dean, what are you-?” Castiel began, but he stopped when he saw what Dean was pulling out of the car.

“Found it at the reservoir, right after everything went down,” Dean said quietly. “Couldn’t just leave it there, you know? All I could think of was that one day you were going to need that damn trenchcoat back, so I’d better keep it safe.”

“Overcoat,” Castiel corrected absentmindedly, gently taking the coat from Dean and smoothing its surface.

“It’s going to need to be cleaned,” Dean continued, but before he could say anything else Castiel set the coat on the roof of the Impala and pulled the hunter in for a deep kiss.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s mouth when they finally pulled away.

Dean smiled gently, and pulled the angel close. “Don’t mention it,” he said softly, and kissed the top of Castiel’s head.

Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew that they both had issues that still needed to be addressed, fear and guilt that needed to be soothed away. Castiel was still weak, even on a good day, and unless they worked out how to deal with his Grace there was a good chance that neither of them would hunt again.

But standing there in Bobby’s scrapyard, hidden by the Impala and wrapped in each other’s arms, Dean couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the end! Thank you to everyone who read and I hope you enjoyed it. There is a tentative sequel in the works, so keep an eye open for that!


End file.
